Isn't Anyone Trying to Find Me?
by Jedi Jesi Jiin
Summary: Mara Jade had been trying to separate herself from the Emperor anyway, but she never could have predicted the downturn her life would suddenly take. Nor could she have foreseen who would come to her rescue... and win her heart. AU story. Contains some mild mature content.
1. Prologue

**Isn't Anyone Trying to Find Me? **

**.**

**.**

**.**

_**A/N1:**_**Major AU story!**

**.**

**.**

_**A/N2:**__ I do not own Star Wars._

**.**

**.**

**Prologue:**

**Jabba the Hutt's palace:**

Mara looked up from her perch by the corner as the bounty hunter came in with the Wookiee. She knew it had to be Organa under that mask, for whom else would the lumbering Chewbacca allow to lead him in here all shackled up?

Mara could taste the upcoming moment when… _he_ would arrive. And when he did…

_What then, Mara?_ She asked herself. _You are already way in over your head by doubting your master, are you willing to allow one of his worst enemies to get away?_

Mara pursed her lips, un-phased by the action around her as the 'bounty hunter' pulled a detonator from a pouch. There was no way the woman would use it: not until she was certain there was no way to get her precious Han Solo back.

Mara paused at that, wondering what it would be like to have someone go into the bowels of hell- which was Mara's opinion of Jabba's palace- because he loved her. Or even just cared for her… and didn't want to use her.

As the excitement from the Wookiee's capture died away to be replaced by the music and dancing, Mara's thoughts wandered.

Her doubts of whether she stood on the right side of the proverbial fence had been seeded in the first Death Star. Who would build a planet-destroyer?

What kind of a maniac would stoop to that level? Mara could handle removing treasonous scumbags when she knew they deserved it. But to commit genocide… and all in the name of making a statement?

And not just eradicate a race, but their entire existence? For what, aside from some natives who'd been lucky enough to be off-planet at the time of its destruction, was truly left of Alderaan? Mara had seen holos of the planet, and it saddened her that such a jewel of nature was gone forever.

If anything, it would have- and did- spur the Rebels into action… something that cost Palpatine billions of credits and years of work. It was also the something that had skyrocketed a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed farmboy to the top of the Empire's most wanted list.

Mara hadn't understood how anyone could be sick enough to take out a planet like Tarkin had.

Mara had begun to wonder just what kind of a man she willingly served. And that was when her self-created blinders had started to come free; and as her master sent her on more missions, Mara had come to see the true nature of the Empire.

Poverty ran rampant, and those who couldn't pay their taxes were severely punished. Treason was a word used far too often, and Mara knew the elite of the Empire had used backstabbing and cut-throat methods to gain favor in the Emperor's eyes.

And had she been so different, really? Though it was true she'd not been given a choice as to whether or not she served him, Mara had truly believed that she was serving justice. After all, she had only been a child when Palpatine had taken her from… wherever it is she hailed from. When someone grows up in a certain way, and it's all they've known, it's hard to top that.

And so, fed up with the corruption that was encouraged by the man she called master, Mara had started to chafe under his all-controlling presence. She was not so foolish as to out-right refuse his orders. She had, however, learned well how to conceal her actual thoughts behind half-truths so he would not suspect her split loyalties and find it necessary to 'correct' her.

So now she sat in Jabba's palace… and she knew that this mission would change everything for her. This, the Force screamed at her, would be her final hour to decide for herself… her once chance to fight the Emperor without his knowing.

Or at least, she hoped to be able to keep her mutiny to herself.

If she took that path.

Mara had the feeling it would all depend on Luke Skywalker himself… and what he was _actually_ like. Oh sure, she had read all the reports on him; she knew his homeplanet, his education level, and even that he had a prosthetic right hand. But no report- especially those written by biased Imperial men- could tell you the true nature of the person they were about.

_So what'll it be, Mara? _She wondered again. _Do you take your first step away from the shelter of the Empire? There is security in living a life among the shadows: especially Palpatine's very _large_ shadow._

Mara sighed, resigning herself to wait until the man of the hour arrived to make her decision.

**00000**

Mara was looking surreptitiously at Leia Organa, who'd been stupid enough to blow her cover by attempting on her own to rescue Han. Now she sat, a slave, at Jabba's side.

Mara shook her head in slight pity. At least he hadn't asked the brunette to dance for him… yet. Though with the way the ugly slug kept eyeing his newest catch, Mara knew there were far worse fates out there.

The entire throne room- Mara snorted at that, because this was a poor excuse for such a room- was asleep except for Jabba's majordomo. Mara wasn't tired, having napped off and on during the day when she wasn't asked to dance.

At first she missed it, since she was so focused on the sleeping Leia, but when the presence tickled her mind again, she snapped to full-alert mode.

And promptly smothered a gasp.

This presence was unlike anything she'd ever before encountered. She knew the Dark Side of the Force well, and she recognized the frigid and unwelcoming sense that a Sith gave off. She was so used to their putrid Force essence- something that clearly unsettled others, and she'd even seen some be sick- that it didn't bother her.

In fact, it was simply a part of her life; and when one lives in the cold one develops a thicker skin as a result.

But this…

This presence was so… _warm_, and so _bright_, that at first look it burned her. She hissed through her teeth, shielding herself from his radiance. To her chagrin, that act caught his attention, and Mara felt Luke cautiously reach out for the other Force-user.

Mara remained absolutely still. But as his presence shifted, she found herself drawn more and more to his vitality. She'd never been this close to a Jedi… hell; she'd never _met_ a Jedi until today.

Was this what they all felt like? Or was this just Luke Skywalker?

All she knew was what the Emperor had told her, which she now knew was based off his hatred of Jedi. But she hadn't had the… _chance_ to witness first hand a Jedi's presence.

It was such a stark contrast to the presences of Vader and the Emperor that Mara couldn't help but feel a great loss when Luke at last retracted his searching probe. She ached to reach back, to feel his warm spirit, which she admitted was strangely comforting to her.

And… Mara realized _something_ about Luke called to her. His presence created a reaction in her she'd never know could exist. It was an alien and frightening thing, but Mara surprised herself by not shunning it like she would have any other time.

Mara tracked his presence as it drew nearer, her mental eyes adjusting to his luminescence. Mara couldn't help but feel slightly like an insect attracted to a bug-light; so unable was she to look away.

She allowed herself to bask in his warmth, again to her surprise, and Mara wondered where the Emperor's Hand had gone.

_Snap out of it Jade!_ She reprimanded herself. _You are here to do a…_

And then the man came into view, trailing a muttering Twilek, who she felt was being mind-tricked. Mara's breath caught in her throat when, as he moved to stand before Jabba's 'throne', his gaze happened upon hers.

And in that heartbeat, Mara felt something _zing _across the space between them. His eyes widened a touch as he recognized her presence from earlier, but Mara quickly looked down, breaking the moment.

She could feel his gaze linger on her until Jabba roused grumpily. Mara listened to Luke's soft, yet commanding voice as he incredibly gave the vile gangster a choice. Why not just kill the stupid Hutt and be done with it?

Force knew the galaxy would be a better place without his scum slicking the floor. As if he'd picked up her stray thought, the Jedi's ice-blue gaze flickered to her's and she felt again his curiosity at her.

Even though she was in disguise, Mara felt that he somehow could see through her. Mara blew out a breath of relief as he removed his clear eyes from hers.

While he was again conversing with Jabba, another stray though came to Mara, one she was careful to hide. What would it feel like to have those arms wrapped around her?

She jerked at that thought, nearly missing the squeals of the Gamorrean guard that fell into the rancor pit with Skywalker. Where in all blazes had _that_ fantasy come from?

Mara shook her head, thinning her lips. She didn't know that, but she _did_ know that anyone with such a welcoming presence in the Force could only be a good person. And who knew, maybe this Jedi was perhaps a way of ridding the galaxy of its tyrannical ruler.

Mara felt the shift within herself and she knew then, without a doubt, that she would not kill Luke Skywalker.

Not now, or ever.

Looking down into the pit, Mara willed the Jedi to survive.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**

Mara Jade sat in her apartment, trying to immerse herself in her work since she knew she had better have something to show the Emperor upon his return to Coruscant. Mara felt a pang in her waist as the scars from the Emperor's Force-lightning pulled yet again.

When she had come before Palpatine admitting that she failed her assignment to kill Skywalker, he'd gone into a fit of rage. Mara had experienced Sith lightning before, and normally she did everything in her power to avoid her master's wrath.

But when she had knelt before him as a first-time failure, he'd shown no mercy. Mara had been so close to death it frightened her. Now she was covered in jagged scars that would never truly fade away.

But Mara had held firm her mind, and kept the complete truth from him. Because if he'd found out she had _let_ Skywalker walk away from her when she'd had ample opportunity to take him out, Palpatine really would have killed her.

And now…

A sudden rush of Dark Side energy surged through her in a screaming wail, and Mara gasped as agony coursed through her entire being. Images of Skywalker and Vader pierced her mind, an view of them turning coat on Palpatine. And his angry order to her:

_You will kill Luke Skywalker!_

And with that final word, her mind tore as the link she shared with Palpatine shattered. Mara clutched at her head as if to physically halt the pain, gasping mightily. The misery was too much for her to bear, and the next thing she knew she was in the dark.

When Mara came-to, she didn't know how long she had been unconscious. All she knew was one thing: Emperor Palpatine was dead.

That fact, Mara knew, should have pissed her off: he had been her life, and for over twenty years she had served him loyally. But instead of anger or hate, Mara felt only a great freedom and relief.

Palpatine's last command echoed through her head.

_You will kill Luke Skywalker!_

Mara snorted disdainfully. "Yeah right."

Mara pushed his command away, but found her mind was still too ragged to think clear enough for that. In fact, she was certain there was at least some damage to her brain from the violent way in which Palpatine had left her. And then Mara frowned as she realized her capacity to think straight would be seriously hampered for some time to come until she healed.

Despite her injury, Mara resolved to do her best.

Mara heard a thundering _boom_ and jerked upright. Her head spun as she made her way to the window. Down below, and surrounding the Imperial Palace were citizens of Coruscant. And while many were simply making merry their newfound freedom, Mara knew riots when she saw them.

Throngs of people moved in on the poor stormtroopers at the front doors, and by sheer numbers they won that fight. Mara felt the warning in the Force to get away, and fast.

She turned to her closet and snagged her emergency travel pack. Slinging the straps over her shoulders, Mara grabbed her weapons and raced from the room.

To her surprise, the sounds of the protestors who were ransacking the Palace had already begun making their way upward. Mara used the stairs in case they went after the turbolifts. It wasn't until she reached the fiftieth floor from her apartment on the eightieth that Mara met resistance.

At first she simply continued onward, using their masses to her advantage. Mara blended in as best she could, but when someone bumped her near the edge of the throng, she fell to the floor.

Whoever was tangled with her began to curse loudly, until he saw who she was.

"Hey…" he cocked his head, his eyes lighting with recognition. "I've seen you in court."

"No, you're mistaking me for someone else." Mara shoved him off and climbed to her feet, still fighting the effects of her pained mind.

"Like hell," he growled, turning to the people.

Mara broke into a sprint, sensing the dangerous turn events had just taken.

"Hey everyone, there goes Palpatine's little pet!" the man hollered.

Instantly several people broke from the herd to pursue Mara, who felt her heart race. She sped through corridors she knew by heart, the mad throng hot on her tail. They caught up to her on the first floor when the masses became too great to move through freely.

They seized hold of her, and Mara jabbed her fingers into one man's throat. He screamed and released her as Mara slammed her foot upon that of the second man holding her.

He stumbled back, and Mara pushed through the crowd, fighting the urge to be ill from her horribly spinning head. She lost all sense of direction and time, but heard that the angry mob was still pursuing her.

She stumbled upon something on the ground and went down in a tangle of backpack and red hair. A large hand promptly grabbed her about the arm and yanked her into an alley.

"Hello there." A deep voice purred. "I've been watchin' and following you: seems like you need a way out of town. I can get you off world… _if_ you promise not to fight me."

Something about this man sent warning bells off in her head, and she struggled against him, but with her injury already making her queasy, it was simple for him to overpower her. Mara did know that she needed to get off planet, and soon, but she didn't like this man.

Mara was getting ever dizzier, so she had no idea where they were as he led her, trembling and wobbling up a ship's ramp. Her senses went wild as he took her aft, but she wasn't fast enough to stop him from suddenly throwing her into some sort of cage.

Mara's head spun harder upon impact, and the pain increased yet again, until she finally did vomit. Mara felt as though her brain were bleeding from the way her master had departed this life. It was possible to sever such a deep bond between a master and his apprentice, but it had to be done carefully to avoid just what Mara was experiencing.

And as such, she had no hope of retaliating as the man locked her up, though at first she felt the sting of something being shot into her neck. Mara weakly took a swing at him, but ended up connecting with the wall instead, and split her knuckles.

"Ha! You are a fiery little vixen, I'll give you that." The man chortled. "But that won't last long where you're goin'."

Mara could only lie panting on the floor until once again unconsciousness took her.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

The next time Mara came-too, she felt much better. She groaned as her aching body protested against her being out for however long. She lifted her arm to lie across her eyes, and that was when she realized it was bare.

Mara frowned. Where was her coat?

"Good morning, my dear."

She opened her eyes and lifted her head lightning quick, feeling some lingering effects of dizziness, though not enough to cause her to be sick. Mara then saw that she lie in a filthy bed that had very clearly seen better days. Mara also saw that she wore nothing more than a skimpy piece of lingerie that _barely_ covered anything.

She shifted self-consciously when she remembered that there was a man in the room, and she sat up to find him lounging at the foot of her bed. He was a slick, oily thing that clearly tried too hard to impress his clients, what with his greasy black hair combed just so, and his 'perfectly tailored' suit. Mara turned red at the way he was openly admiring her, and she lifted her right leg to kick him off the mattress.

A movement that should have been a slice of rychate cake was heavy and sluggish. Frowning, Mara lifted her foot more and saw a burdensome chain attached to that ankle. She followed the restraint to the bed post on that side, and then glared at the man.

"What is going on?" she demanded, giving him her best glare.

Her famous glower had sent many men scrambling for their very lives, but this one merely smirked at her.

"Charger was right," he remarked casually. "You are a feisty little thing."

"Let me off this chain and I'll show you just how feisty I can be," Mara snapped.

"Another time, perhaps." He stood, not bothering to hide his pleasure at her discomfort in being so exposed. "Now that you are at long last awake, today is your orientation."

"Orientation?" Mara deadpanned.

"Of course; all the girls go through it."

Mara did not like the sound of that at all. "Look, I won't cause you any trouble if you just let me go now."

"And where would you go darling?" he questioned. "You don't even know where you are."

"It doesn't matter where I am, I can survive anywhere." Mara assured him. "And my patience is running thin."

"As is mine," he barked. "Now shut up and listen."

Mara jerked upright, slugging him in the face with her right fist. She then leapt from the bed, intent on finishing him off, but an electrical jolt to her body made her jerk. He grabbed her by the throat, and Mara promptly kneed him in the groin, determined not to go down without a fight. He cursed profusely even as he doubled over, but refused to release her.

To her dismay, Mara found that was all the energy she had left and she sagged within his grasp. Angrily, he flung her back onto the bed, where her head struck the metal frame. She ignored the shot of pain as he leered over her.

"You would do well to refrain from fighting me, _slave_!" he roared.

Mara froze, horror sinking in. He saw this and grinned maliciously.

"That's right, woman: I own you now! That electrical jolt you felt? It's what we will use to kill you if you somehow manage an escape. And do not try removing it, because it must be deactivated first or it will kill you." He leaned back. "Now. You may call me Gerris; I am your master now."

_Great, I lost one master just to get another._ Mara groused even as her fear took hold. But she was determined that she would never bow down to him.

"You have been out cold since Charger brought you home to us, which has been a week." Gerris went on. "A full week in which the only nourishment you received is an I.V which we removed two days ago. You are hungry, thirsty and weak from malnourishment."

He again sat on the edge of the bed.

"This is how I operate: if you want to eat, you perform your new task." He ran his hand down her arm, and Mara mustered enough energy to elbow him.

"Do not touch me!" she hollered.

"I will do whatever I like with you." he returned harshly. "And until you act properly, you will starve."

Garris rose, nursing his goin and waist. "Men will come in to visit with you, and you will be their companion. Failure to do so will result in no food." He paused at the door where he knocked. "However, since this is your first day I will grant you one free meal."

The door opened and a dark-skinned human walked in with a cup of water and a plate of fruit and bread. As much as Mara wanted to refuse, she knew she had to eat to give her the energy she would need to fight on.

So she accepted the meal offered, ignoring the lustful look the newcomer gave her. The water was horrible, but it would suffice. Garris watched her for a moment longer, and then walked out.

Mara only then noticed the single, grungy sheet on her mattress, and cursed for not having seen it sooner. Mara swore to herself that she would rather die than be any man's _companion_. Of course, she just hoped she could follow through.

But then, many things had changed for her recently. Mara swallowed hard as her situation slowly sank in, and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

She squeezed them shut and wrapped herself in the sheet, curling against the headboard like a child.

She didn't _really_ want to die, but she didn't wish to be a pleasure-slave either. When Mara had envisioned herself free from Palpatine's oppression, she hadn't realized just how rock-bottom things could get for her.

Mara was beginning to think that the Emperor's Hand was being pushed more and more into the shadows; and to make room for a much more vulnerable woman who had no experience at being just a person. That had never been an option for her before now.

As despair at her situation clouded her mind, Mara let out a plaintive cry to the Force.

_Someone… please… help me! _

**00000**

Luke Skywalker sat in the center of the floor in his room onboard _Home One_, trying to make sense of his life. For eighteen years, he had wished to get off Tatooine and help bring good to the galaxy.

At long last that dream had come true, though it had cost Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru their lives. And again for four years, he had lived as the Alliance's hero, their poster boy, and a symbol of hope to bring down an Emperor.

Now, finally it seemed, he had done just that… or rather, Darth Vader had.

So now that the two Sith Lords were vanquished, what was he supposed to do? All he'd know for four years now was war and struggle. What path was he meant to take now?

Luke sighed, shifting his cross-legged stance to get more comfortable. For some reason, the curious woman he'd come across a few months ago in Jabba's Palace kept coming to mind. It was almost as though the Force was trying to tell him something about her, but every time he attempted to learn more, it went suspiciously and annoyingly silent.

Luke did his best to curb his impatience; instead opting to trust that the Force knew what it was doing, and that it had its own timetable.

Why the strange woman kept coming to mind, he couldn't tell. Luke had of course tried to find her with the Force during down time in the past months, but so far he'd been unsuccessful. He remembered that day in Jabba's throne room clearly: recalled how her intelligent mind had touched his, only to play hide-and-seek when he sought her in return.

When their eyes had met moments later, Luke had known that she was special, and he'd felt a strange connection to her. Not having been able to get much of a look at the woman aside from her eyes, Luke had taken to memorizing her gaze.

_Yeah, and if you ever find her you can creep her out with that fact, Luke._ He chided himself sardonically.

Luke shook his head mutely, and attempted to clear his mind. Maybe if he meditated on it more, he would find a clue this time.

He settled into the flow of the Force, allowing it to fill his entire being before he let go. Peace settled upon him, something he'd not felt in too long now. A slight smile touched his lips, but vanished when a feeling of utter despondency washed over him.

With the sensation came the image of a woman, her red-gold hair cascading about her porcelain shoulders as she wept. The view changed to show her looking into the air hopelessly, and Luke instantly recognized those emerald eyes.

He gasped, taken aback by the vision of her predicament.

Then her voice- so lovely, yet so sad it nearly broke his heart- came to him as clear as though she were standing beside him.

_Someone… please… help me! _

Luke instinctively reached back, feeling her shock and lack of recognition; but he pressed her for any clue. She hesitated, probably thinking she was going nuts, and then at long last he heard a whispered name: Garris.

Luke lost contact after that, and he paused to focus on the name he'd been given. He sent out a question to the Force, trying to puzzle out who 'Garris' was... or was it a place? When nothing came to him, Luke broke from his mediation.

Rising to his feet, he went to the Intelligence department. Upon entering, the tech on duty gave him a pleasant smile.

"Commander Skywalker, it's good to see you Sir." Ryal said with a genial smile.

"Hello Ryal, it's nice to see you as well." Luke returned the smile. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure." She turned her chair to face him.

"Does the name Garris sound familiar?" Luke inquired.

She pursed her lips, deep in thought. After a time, she shook her head slowly.

"No, I am sorry, Sir," she said apologetically. "Would you like me to see if I can dig anything up?"

"Would you please?" he asked.

"Of course. It may take some time, but I will let you know if I find anything," she said as she returned to her console, typing away with new fervor.

"Thank you." Luke waved to her in turn.

**00000**

Mara eventually ate her food, pondering the strange reaction she'd gotten when her cry had issued forth. She could have sworn someone actually heard her… and answered.

Or had it just been wishful thinking? She didn't know, since when it came to the Force, Palpatine had only allowed her to learn what she needed to perform a task, and nothing more.

Mara gazed at her ankle, half-tempted to use her limited Force training to set herself free. But though she could do that- and she could easily get out of any compound- Garris held the ace by means of her chip. If she escaped, they'd simply press a button and she'd be history.

Or maybe not, since Mara had lived her entire life known only to a select few… most of who were now dead.

Mara sighed heavily, finishing her food and then tossing the plate toward the door. Maybe the next fool to enter would slip on it and get hurt. It would serve them right.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of another woman in the room next to hers. Mara scowled as the pair next door became obnoxious, and she tried her best to tune them out. She could feel emotions similar to her own from other women in the building: despair, anger, self-loathing… hopelessness.

Screams from less-willing women echoed at random through the halls, and every now and then Mara heard booted feet pad by her door. Every time that happened, Mara tensed in readiness to kick the next man who dared think she would willingly give herself over to him simply because she was chained to a bed.

She may be frightened, alone and without a clue as to where she was, but she was still Mara Jade.

And Mara Jade didn't go down easily.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

It was more or less twenty-four standard hours after her orientation day before Garris sent in her first 'companion'. Mara kept her sheet firmly in place as the door closed behind the man. He was a scrawny thing, Mara noted, with stringy brown hair and a sallow complexion. His dark eyes were torn between lust for the woman in the room, and nerves about actual performing.

Mara decided to use his nerves to her advantage.

"Hello there," she purred, using her training to pitch her voice just so. "You look a little distraught there."

He thinned his lips, but took a few steps closer to her. "I came for some woman's company, not to hear her jabber."

"Are you certain you can… y'know." Mara let the statement hang, watching him carefully for a reaction.

He didn't disappoint. "I can, you wretch!" was his indignant reply. "I can perform as well as the next man in your line."

Mara lifted an imperious eyebrow. "You'll forgive me if I have my doubts."

He seethed, and Mara snickered to herself.

"I like experienced men, and you don't seem that type," Mara went on, trying to throw salt on the open wound.

He faltered, and Mara knew she had him.

"I… I _can_ do this!" he pepped himself.

"No, honey, you can't," Mara reasoned in her best sympathetic tone. "Best try your luck another time."

He fidgeted where he stood, eyes glued to her mostly hidden frame, but he didn't advance. Mara waited to see what he'd do, willing to use other- more painful- methods if he puckered his courage.

But then he threw up his hands in disgust and stormed out, not seeing Mara's triumphant smirk.

**00000**

Han Solo entered the smaller of the two mess halls on board the Alliance's flagship, his eyes automatically scanning the crowd. His attention was diverted partway through by the cook of the day calling his name.

"Hey, General!"

Han did a double-take to find Wes Janson behind the counter, using a serving utensil to encourage him to get a plate.

Han lifted a wary brow, approaching the Rouge Squadron pilot. "How'd you end up on kitchen duty, Janson?"

Wes grimaced. "Lost a bet to Hobbie."

Han smirked. Derek 'Hobbie' Klivian and Wes Janson were inseparable, and they loved to play pranks both on other people and each other. Han's curiosity got the better of him, and he accepted a plate from the pilot.

"What was the bet this time?"

Wes grinned. "Whether or not Calrissian would keep the _Falcon_ in one piece at Endor."

Han grumbled a little at that memory, but didn't begrudge the pilot his fun. That battle had been a huge victory for them all. Han turned away from the counter with a little salute and moved toward a random table.

He stopped in his tracks when he spotted a familiar figure in the farthest corner of the room. Luke Skywalker was huddled over his table, his chin resting in one hand as he absent-mindedly poked at something on the slab before him.

Han redirected to join him, frowning a little as his friend remained unresponsive even when he approached the table from slightly behind. Once upon a time Han could have snuck up on Luke easily, but now that he was a Jedi that task was darn near impossible.

Han saw that the kid's mind was clearly elsewhere, and every now and then he'd make a note, or scribble something on the object before him. Han craned his neck to catch a glimpse of what held the kid's attention so fastidiously, and saw that he was using a stylus to inch a piece of flimsi about the tabletop.

Han's jaw dropped, and the plate of food almost went with it when he saw what was on the page. The fact that he'd never seen Luke draw anything was completely forgotten as the image came into focus. It was of a woman in extremely skimpy lingerie, chained by her ankle to a metal bed frame.

"By the stars, Luke," Han exclaimed, watching as the Jedi nearly jumped out of his skin at his sudden statement. "What in space are you doing?"

Luke spotted Han and instantly tried to hide the drawing, his face turning as red as Darth Vader's lightsaber. Han took notice of the stares suddenly directed their way, and felt foolish for drawing attention like that.

Han took a seat across from Luke, who refused to look up from where he'd buried his face in one hand, while the other was placed firmly over the image. The color had yet to fade from the Jedi's visage, though.

Han glared at anyone still watching them, a warning to give them privacy, and once they all complied he reached across the table and snatched the flimsi.

"HAN!" Luke shouted indignantly.

He tried in vain to snatch the image back, his eyes slightly panicked, but Han held it just out of reach, trying to get a better look. Han was enjoying teasing Luke, who was clearly put-out by Han discovering his 'secret', and in the thrill of the moment opened his mouth.

"Is this some kind of fantasy of yours, Kid?" Han asked before his brain caught up with him.

Luke froze, his hand midway through reaching for the flimsi again, and— though Han hadn't thought it possible— he turned a shade redder. Luke's eyes went wide with disbelief that Han had asked that, and his breathing was short and hard.

Han took one look at Luke and knew he'd screwed up, but before he could say anything more Luke was on his feet and racing from the room. Han let out a string of multi-language curses and, stuffing the image in a pocket, he followed.

He made it into the hallway just in time to see Luke duck down a side corridor, and Han sprinted after him.

"Luke!" Han called, trying to get him to stop, or at least slow down, but if the Jedi heard him he didn't give any indication.

Han chased the Jedi through the corridors until he saw Luke finally dive through a doorway, the hatch slamming shut behind him. Han reached the door, doubling over for a moment to catch his breath. He frowned when he realized they were deep in the bowels of _Home One_ where the storerooms were.

But the door Luke had plunged through was a maintenance hatch, used to gain access the guts of the huge vessel. Han looked up and down the corridor, saw it was empty save for him, and tried the door.

To his great relief it opened, and Han closed it behind him. He saw that the space was dark save for red safety lighting, which lent the room an eerie feeling, what with all the electrical branch-lines, truncated cables and tubing.

Han heard pacing up ahead on metal deck plating, and he prowled cautiously forward even as he reminded himself that the Jedi probably knew he was there. What he wasn't expecting was to find Luke clenching and unclenching his hands tightly… and trying hard not to break down into sobs.

When Han's feet stepped from the narrow walkway into the larger room, Luke stopped so suddenly Han was taken aback.

"Have you come to insult me again, Han?" Luke bit out. "Because I am not in the mood for that."

Han held up his hands. "Hey, Kid, I'm sorry."

Luke threw up his hands. "How the hell could you think I would _ever_ want that for _any_ woman!"

Han looked away guiltily as Luke began pacing again, though his line was much shorter this time around. He was clearly distraught, and Han knew then that there was more going on here than met the eye.

"Luke…what I said was way out of line," Han said softly. "I'm sorry."

Luke stopped again, no longer able to hold in his tears: they fell hotly down his face, searing Han's hear with each _drip-drop_ off Luke's ruddy cheeks.

"You can be really thoughtless sometimes, you know that?" Luke asked, though the acid in his voice had vanished, to be replaced by hurt.

With a world-weary sigh, Luke sank to the floor, leaning back against the safety railing and running a hand through his hair. Han kicked himself mentally, and on a whim he tugged the flimsi from his pocket, this time really looking at the image.

Aside from the woman, who was strikingly beautiful— though of course he preferred Leia— there was a barren room surrounding her. Yet the empty space was taken up by random scribbling:

'_Pleasure-slave'… 'dirty'… 'gloomy, moist'… 'save me'… _

Han saw that the largest and most pronounced word was 'Garris', which had been underlined heavily, circled and starred.

Taking in all these new facts, Han realized that this was anything but a sick fantasy for the kid. Luke was trying to piece clues together, and the woman was at the center of it all.

Han felt shame wash through him. His gaze lifted to rest upon Luke, who had his knees up. His elbows rested on them while he cradled his head in his hands, a few tufts of hair sticking through his fingers. Han determined to make this up to the kid.

Seating himself next to the man he now called brother, Han cleared his throat.

"You know, if you want, Lando has a lot of connections. I could ask him if this Garris rings any bells." He offered.

Luke didn't even lift his head as he mumbled a response. "I've had both Alliance Intelligence and Artoo running the name… or place, for nearly two days now and they haven't found a thing."

"Maybe because this guy's under their radar?" Han suggested mildly.

Luke finally glanced at Han, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes as he considered what Han was saying.

"Do you really think Lando would know anything?" he inquired.

"It's worth a shot." Han shrugged. "Actually, the name does kind of strike a chord, though I can't say why."

Luke lifted a brow at that, and then gazed back at the drawing.

"Actually, I never thought to look in the Underground." Luke's voice was contemplative. "That would explain the conditions I saw her in."

Han blinked. "'Saw her?'"

Luke glanced at him, and seemed to realize he'd only offered half a thought. But then he nodded.

"I saw her in a vision." He admitted, looking down.

Han's gaze stopped on the woman's face, trying to place it, but nothing about her seemed familiar at all. He frowned as a thought occurred to him: Luke spoke as though he knew this woman, and yet, there was no name given as to who she was.

"Who is she, Kid?" Han asked gently, trying not to be offensive.

Luke shrugged soundlessly, though Han didn't need the kid's Force abilities to sense his reluctance. Han rested a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Hey, I promise not to laugh again, Luke. You can tell me anything."

Luke gazed at him without lifting his head, taking in his words, and then he sighed softly.

"I don't know, really." He began. "I… I saw her a few months ago… during the rescue at Jabba's. She is definitely Force-sensitive, Han. I felt her mind brush mine, and then when I saw her in person…" Luke finally lifted his head, gaining fervor with each hesitant sentence. "All I saw clearly were her eyes, but when our gazes locked… Han, I've never experienced anything like it before.

"There was this… I don't know, a _zing_, between us, and a connection was forged. I don't know if it was a pre-destined thing by the Force that we should connect the second our eyes met, but she is definitely a special woman." Luke looked to the picture, his excitement at describing the moment dying as he recalled her predicament. "And the other night while I was meditating, her image came to me in a vision: this very scene actually, and then she whispered for help. And it was like I was standing there with her, I heard her so clearly. She was calling for help… and she was so frightened Han."

Luke finally met his gaze. "I _have_ to find her, Han: I need to help this woman. I just know she's special to me. It may not be love, at least not yet, but I cannot deny that she and I are meant to be together in some capacity."

Han didn't miss the loneliness in Luke's finishing remarks, nor the fragile hopes that he could find someone to love as Han and Leia had. Han knew Luke had given up actively vying for Leia long before she and the smuggler had admitted their feelings for one another.

And that was before he knew of their familial connection.

Even so, Han knew the Jedi was lonely. Han had spied Luke watching them longingly from time to time when he thought Han and Leia wouldn't notice.

"Luke, don't go after her in the hopes of winning her heart." Han cautioned gently. "Damsels in distress often shift from infatuation with their rescuer to someone else."

Luke didn't say anything for a moment, but when he nodded, it was full of understanding.

"I am going because she needs help, and it's the right thing to do," Luke said. "I know that with every fiber if my being, Han. And besides, I don't think she's going to be in the frame of mind for anything romantic after what she's been subjected to."

Han nodded. "Yeah. Well, hey, I'll give Lando the name and see what he comes up with, okay?"

"Alright." Luke smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Han."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

Mara managed to thwart the two other men Garris sent her way with nothing but her wit and charm. She hadn't had to use violence… yet. But she knew they weren't all going to be unsure of themselves. Now she sat alone at what she sensed was the end of her first day on the job.

When her door opened again to admit Garris, Mara lifted a brow. He sauntered over to her bed, pointedly looking at the sheet she had over her frame.

"May I help you?" Mara asked tartly.

"Why is it whenever I send a man your way they leave in a huff?" Garris inquired with a dangerous edge to his voice.

Mara snorted. "Maybe because they were unsteady?"

He continued to eye her. "And you, of course, had nothing to do with this?"

Mara offered her best 'who, me?' look, to which he lifted his nose haughtily.

"Because if you are the reason they are denying me business, the ramifications will not be pleasant." He warned.

"You do not frighten me," Mara dismissed, looking away pointedly.

"You only say that because you don't know what I am capable of." Garris informed her patiently, as though he'd seen this 'tough act' before.

And Mara knew he probably had: who knew what the women here had tried in order to get out of performing?

Garris studied her nonchalant demeanor for long moments, and then waved to someone outside the room. The man from before walked inside, bringing her a plate of bread and cheese, along with stale water.

Mara hadn't eaten since her 'orientation', but she refused to give either man the satisfaction of a reaction from her.

"I am watching you… Penelo." He grinned with superiority when her green gaze snapped to his face.

"What did you call me?" Mara gritted.

"It means firecracker where I grew up." Garris stood, leaving with the guard. "And since you are mine, woman, I will call you whatever I wish."

"I am _not_ yours!" Mara raged after him, wishing she could kill him with her gaze alone.

He paused in the doorway, looking pointedly over his shoulder at her ankle, which was becoming sore from the weight of her shackle.

"Yes, Penelo, you are." And with that he closed the door.

Mara fumed for a good hour before she remembered her meal. She snatched it up and ate, but not really tasting it as her thoughts turned inward.

She was no one's woman: not without her say-so anyway. Nobody _owned _her, especially that filthy granite-slug of a man Garris. He may have implanted a kill-chip in her neck, but he did not control her entirely as he believed. She wasn't his, and she never would be.

And if it meant she didn't ever eat again, she would _never_ 'perform' to give Garris business.

Never.

She would fight until her strength gave out, and if it killed her… so be it.

**00000**

"Hey, Luke!"

The Jedi looked up from where he stood working on his X-wing. Han and Lando were walking towards him, and Luke could feel the excitement radiating from Han. For the first time since he'd started his search, Luke felt hope rise again.

Luke saw that they were still several yards away, and so he completed his task, sealing the coolant tube and testing the feed. Once they were beside his ship, Luke closed the access hatch and wiped his hands on a rag.

"Hey guys." Luke greeted.

Above him, Artoo tootled that he was likewise finished, and so Luke lowered him to the ground.

Lando arrived first and shook his hand; the Jedi returned the man's pearly-white smile. Next was Han, who clapped him on the back instead while wearing a roguish grin.

"We think we've got something for ya, Kid." Han announced, giving Luke's shoulders an affectionate shake before he released his hold.

"It took a few favors, and some digging, but I found this Garris person you've been looking for." Lando glanced around the sparsely populated hangar, and then produced a datapad.

He keyed it on, typed something in, and then passed it to Luke.

"Garris runs a large, um… _pleasure_ store, oriented towards anyone who needs anything for the bedroom. And I don't mean sheets and furniture." Lando squirmed a bit at the topic, and as Luke perused the information on Garris- and the items his store sold- he felt his own cheeks warm a little.

"Anyway, this particular business is legitimate, but it is also a front for what goes on in the upper levels of the same building." Lando glanced to Han, uncertain if he should proceed, but Han nodded.

"Alright," Lando took a deep breath. "Garris runs a second business that is tied to the first. He captures women via a few select bounty hunters, and then he enslaves them. They are then taken to his side-business to become pleasure-slaves."

Luke ground his teeth. "No woman should be subjected to that life."

Han and Lando heartily agreed, but Han laid a hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Listen, Luke…"

At the hesitation in the smuggler's voice, Luke turned his attention from the 'pad to his brother. Both Han and Lando were looking very cagy all of a sudden.

"What is it?" Luke pressed.

"Luke, Garris lives on Nar Shaddaa," Lando said in a low voice, again glancing about.

Luke's eyes widened a touch at that, and suddenly he understood his companions' nerves. Nar Shaddaa was the neighbor to Hutts' homeworld, and probably the worst planet in the galaxy to be stuck on. Crime was ever present, with murder on the top of that list. If you weren't always on your guard there, you were an easy target.

"Luke, I know you wanted to find this woman." Han bit his lip momentarily. "But maybe you should reconsider."

Luke didn't even hesitate.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "I am not abandoning her to her undeserved fate. I _am_ going."

"Well, how do you plan to get there?" Lando asked, eyeing the fighter behind Luke. "'Cause you can't take an Alliance fighter if you wish to remain anonymous."

"Actually, I already spoke to General Cracken, and he agreed to let me take one of their shuttles used for off-the-book flights," Luke said. "It's not an X-wing, but it will hold two people just fine, with room to spare."

Han and Lando shared a glance: knew they weren't going to talk Luke out of this. With a sigh, Han turned to Luke.

"I'll go with you." He offered.

"Absolutely not." Luke frowned. "Leia would kill me if I took you there."

The smuggler lifted an eyebrow. "And she won't kill you for going alone?"

"Or at all." Lando muttered.

Luke looked away guiltily. "Actually, Leia doesn't know anything about this."

Han's jaw nearly dropped, but Lando nodded.

"It's probably best not to seek her permission." Lando agreed.

"Right." Luke smirked wryly. "Best to ask forgiveness, right?"

"You expect me to be able to keep this from her?" Han demanded. "You know how she is."

"Don't lie if she asks, but do not let her follow me, Han." Luke said. "I am leaving today anyway. I'm already packed and ready to go; all I was waiting for was a destination."

Han drew a hand over his face. "I can't let you go alone, Luke."

The Jedi turned to his friend. "Han, I am a Jedi, I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, that's something else you need to be careful of." Lando supplied. "Keep that fact hidden unless you have no other choice: Jedi are not welcome there."

Han nodded. "And you will need to wear a disguise. Dye your hair at the very least, and do not wear Jedi robes. Keep your lightsaber hidden."

Luke placed a hand on both his friends' shoulders. "I promise to be careful, guys."

"At least take Chewie." Han tried once more.

"No. He'd stand out, when I need to blend in." Luke began to walk away, with the smugglers and droid following. "I will take Artoo with me, and I do have a disguise planned out."

Han had a thought. "What are you going to do to get to her?"

Luke's step faltered, and Han had an idea of what Luke had in mind.

"I will go as a customer." Luke didn't sound happy about that, but he knew he had no other way to the woman.

"And how will you get her out?" Lando inquired.

"I, ah, am still working on that one," Luke admitted with a sheepish shrug. "But I have a change of clothes for her that I borrowed from Leia."

Han stopped short, causing Lando to slam into him.

"You took Leia's clothes?" he was incredulous. "Does _she_ know that?"

Lando managed not to fall to the floor, but as he straightened his tunic he felt his own eyes widen a touch.

"Oh, boy." Lando muttered.

Luke finally stopped and turned around. "No, Leia does not know I took some of her gear to… give to another woman." He slapped a hand to his forehead. "Ah, Force. I didn't think of it that way when I took the clothes." He peeked between his fingers. "Don't tell her that either, please?"

Lando held up his hands. "I am steering clear of that mess, Luke."

Han had to agree, except he would bear the brunt of Leia's anger at Luke's antics. Luke sensed his unease, and stepped up to him.

"Han, if she asks, tell her I went to help a… friend." Luke placed a hand on his bicep. "And that I promise to explain and apologize when I return."

Han thinned his lips, but nodded. "You're damn right she'll want an explanation."

Luke smiled softly. "Yeah. I really need to get going though."

They resumed their walk, and when they spotted the ship, Han seemed dubious.

"What kind of weapons does your ship have?" he asked, walking about the exterior of the small shuttle. "Does it have good shielding?"

"Han, this vessel is used in Intelligence ops, so yes; it has good shields and decent weaponry." Luke didn't sound as worried as Han thought he should have.

"Luke…"

"Han, I will be fine." Luke assured him, looking him straight-on. "And I will not be helpless."

"No, you won't be." Lando produced a bag Luke hadn't known he'd been wearing due to the dark-skinned man's cape. "Because you will be taking— and using— these. When I heard what you were planning to do, I insisted you should at least go prepared. Han agreed, so we put this survival pack together for you."

Luke's brow shot up in surprise, but he took the bag and peered inside. A slow smile spread across his face, feeling touched at their gesture. Inside the sack was an assortment of gear: from vibro-blades and hold-out blasters the size of a child's toy, to false I.D tags he could add a holo to with the device they were secured against. Also provided were several ration bars and a canteen of water.

"Thank you, both of you." Luke said warmly.

"You can thank us by coming home alive." Han was deadly serious.

"I plan to," Luke said evenly.

"It's going to take you four days in hyperspace to get there, Luke," Lando said. "Use the time to practice your act, and to plan your way in and out."

"And keep your eyes peeled at all times; your senses sharp." Han added. "Do not trust anyone on that planet."

Luke refrained from telling his companions off, knowing their advice stemmed from their concern for his well-being.

"I will," he replied simply, waving at them as he followed Artoo up the ramp.

He settled into the pilot's chair with a sigh, grateful to _finally_ be under way… and yet nervous all the same. As he lifted the shuttle free of the containment field and out into open space, his mind wandered a touch.

When Luke stretched out with the Force he felt that time was getting crunched, and that he was cutting it close. But he was confident in his ability to pull off this rescue.

He simply prayed that the woman would not give him too much trouble. He sensed that she was strong and very much self-sufficient… but she was also a recently-broken woman who was floundering in the dark.

She was someone very much in need of a friend: a person who would be unbiased and unassuming. She would need someone who would not be afraid of her, but instead accept her for she was.

The alert came that they'd arrived at the jump-off point, and Luke turned to the droid alcove.

"Are the coordinates set, Artoo?"

After an affirmative whistle, Luke placed his hand on the levers. With a deep breath, Luke pushed them forward, and the ship leapt to lightspeed.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

Mara panted with exertion, her body trembling as it fought the effects of starvation mixed with hand-to-hand combat. The latest man they'd sent in here was now lying unconscious on the floor, his nose and right arm broken.

He had tried using force when his sickly-sweet attempts to lure her into a false sense of security had failed miserably. He hadn't been expecting her to fight him off… literally. It had been two days since Garris had visited her with his warning. Forty-eight hours of fighting off the wayward men her new 'boss' kept sending her way.

Two days since she had eaten anything… and now her body was fighting against her too. Mara tried to breathe as she'd been taught to gain control of herself, and it worked for a while.

But apparently Garris wanted to break her, because the door opened to reveal the guard. He took the limp form away and ushered in an even burlier person who looked ready to put Mara 'in her place'.

"Hey sweet cakes," he said in a deep voice rich with an outer rim accent. "It's my turn now. Let's get this rodeo started."

Mara sniffed imperiously. "It's your funeral."

He grinned, showing stained teeth that made Mara want to retch. The thought of this man's mouth anywhere near her, let alone _on _her, was disgusting. The man approached as the door closed, and she heard the guard laugh at her just before the lock clicked into place.

Mara readied herself for another battle, trying to hide her weakening strength. She didn't know how much longer she could fight without losing. Her will was stronger than durasteel, but her body needed nourishment to keep up with that.

He noticed her quivering frame thought, his keen eyes roaming over her lustfully. Mara tapped into her Force abilities, and waited for him to move. She had already used the Force multiple times, but she had to be careful not to reveal herself as a Force-user less someone thought she was a Jedi.

Jedi were far from welcome on many planets, and while she didn't know where she was, she knew anti-Jedi people when she saw them.

"Now, when a man wants a woman, it's the woman's place in the universe to grant him his desire." He spoke as though he were instructing a class.

"Show me a man, and I will consider it." Mara remarked coolly.

His lip peeled back in a snarl, and she mentally gave herself one point, taking great pleasure in his offense. He backhanded her, which Mara rolled with, but the weight of his meaty fist still made her see stars.

She recovered quickly, however, shoving her pain aside to grab him with her legs. She heaved and sent him head-first into the bed frame. He howled in agony and Mara struck again, aiming for the back of his head, but he ducked and caught her hand, twisting the limb painfully.

Mara yelped in pain… and then screamed as he continued to twist the limb. She had a thought and grabbed the chain that held her prisoner with her foot, hoisting it to hand-level. Taking it, Mara wrapped it about his neck and tightened it.

He instantly dropped her throbbing wrist to dig his nails into her forearms. Mara gritted her teeth and tightened the make-shift noose. He flailed about frantically, and when he turned purple, Mara leaned to whisper in his ear.

"I belong to no one, least of all a filthy scumbag like you!"

Some small part of her wanted to kill him: a remnant of her days as Emperor's Hand when she asked few- if any- questions. But she was a new woman now, and she didn't kill needlessly; even if it _was_ saving the life of a worthless criminal.

Just before her internal chrono reached the time-limit that would have killed him, Mara released him and his body thudded to the floor.

She was trembling more violently now, her wrist giving her hell. Mara had to wonder if the bones hadn't splintered a little, but the limb was most definitely sprained. She fell back against the mattress, praying to the Force for a respite.

**00000**

Luke stood before the mirror of his ship's refresher, inspecting the stranger's face gazing back at him. He had dyed his hair a rich black, and even given himself a little trim to make the look more convincing. Then he had applied small amounts of cosmetic-putty to alter his facial features to where he no longer looked like Luke Skywalker with a new hair-style.

He sighed, nervous about his impending rescue attempt. It had been three days since he had left Han and Lando on the deck of _Home One_. In just under twenty-four hours, he would land on Nar Shaddaa… and hopefully get right back off with the red headed woman.

But something told him it would not be that simple. Either way, he despised the roll he would have to play to even _get_ to her.

Luke paused, realizing not for the first time that he didn't even know her name. For some strange reason he felt like he should know it already, but the information kept eluding him. Well, he would find out soon enough.

His task at the moment was to get in to see her, and then he could go from there. But he loathed that he would have to pretend to be so desperate for female company that he had to resort to those chained to a bed.

A shudder passed through him, but he hardened himself against such emotion: he had to willingly play the part to make it believable. As much as he wanted to simply barge in guns blazing, he knew that would get him nowhere.

With another sigh, he exited the refresher to find Artoo holding aloft his new false I.D card. Luke took the proffered item and inspected it closely. The picture looked like the man he had become with the cosmetics, and the homeplanet was also believable.

"Treg Hardspa of Borleias." He read aloud. "Looks good, Artoo."

The droid bleeped at him, and Luke smirked. "So, how do I look?"

The droid inspected him closely, making Luke feel like a child under inspection by a school-house teacher who thought he'd broken the dress code. At last the little blue and silver astromech beeped positively, and Luke's smirk became a temporary grin.

"Thanks Artoo." He took the pilot's seat once more and glanced at the navicomputer.

_Eighteen hours to go._ He felt the stirrings of impatience seep into his mind, but he firmly pushed it away.

Such emotion would do him no good. He would have to be careful and calculated in order to pull this off.

But even so, he could not help the feeling that he was cutting things a little too close. The longer it took Luke to get to the mysterious woman, the more she had to put up with this Garris person and his goons.

And Force only knew what the poor lady was dealing with in that wretched place…

Luke utilized his time as Han and Lando had suggested: fine-tuning his plan, practicing his act with Artoo as judge until he was able to convince even himself of his 'intentions'. After that, he donned one of the blasters from the pack on his hip and a vibro-knife in his boot. On a whim, he placed a second knife in his other boot.

Finally he removed the unnecessary items from the bag and kept inside it the rest of his gear. He only prayed he would not need any of the heavier weaponry while on Nar Shaddaa.

To his surprise the timer beeped, indicating that what he'd thought would be a long last couple of hours had passed by while he'd been prepping. Hands on the hyperspace levers, Luke waited for the counter to reach zero, and then dropped the ship from hyperspace.

"No turning back now, Artoo," Luke murmured.

"_Boo-eep_." Was the subdued response.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

Mara was doing her best to ignore the pain. After a third full day of repelling various suitors, Garris had come into her room in a rage that she kept losing him business. Upon seeing her swelling wrist, he'd laughed and then called to the guard outside the door:

"_Break her ankle." Garris ordered the burly man. _

_The man grinned, all too happy to comply. Before Mara had a chance to react, he drew his club and slammed it with all his might on her unchained ankle. Mara screamed in agony as her bone not only broke, but splintered within her skin. _

Garris had then taken the club for himself and proceeded to beat upon the starved and weak woman on the bed. Mara had managed to protect her head, but the rest of her had taken a fierce punishment. Her 'employer' had exhausted all his frustration on her body, so that she was left bruised and even bloodied in places.

Mara, still willing herself to fight back in some way, had aimed for his precious suit and shoes when she'd felt the urge to be sick. That had earned her a backhand across her face, and then a forced bath by two women who had obviously been unchained long enough to perform their task.

So now Mara lay in her bed, cleaned, yet still broken. Garris hadn't bothered to tend to any of her injuries, instead leaving them to fester and swell agonizingly. The one bright spot in her misery was that he hadn't sent anyone to see her for 'favors' since then.

But Mara knew it was only a matter of time before the next man came in. And she honestly did not know if she had the strength— physical or otherwise— to repel him.

For the first time since the day she'd arrived, Mara felt the despair overtake her, and her face was suddenly slick with hot tears.

_No one loves me. _She thought despondently. _Even the Force has abandoned me. I must have been dreaming about that answer before, because not a single shred of hope has come my way since. _

**00000**

Luke stopped before the front window of his destination, shaking his head at the gall the owner obviously had at naming his store thus:

_Garris's Pleasure Emporium: one-stop shopping for all your desired needs… _

Lifting his lip in a disgusted sneer Luke straightened his outfit, adjusted his pack, and squared his shoulders. Wiping the scorn form his face, Luke put on his best acting façade and entered the shop. Instantly his senses were bombarded with perfumes and music no doubt intended to put customers in certain moods.

Firmly maintaining control over his body and his mind, Luke strode purposefully for the room at the back of the shop. The door was unmarked save for an intricately painted heart above the handle. Opening the wooden hatch, Luke ducked inside and closed it behind him.

He found himself in a short, dimly lit hallway, and followed it toward a source of brighter light. His eyes adjusted quickly to the lobby as he entered, gaining the attention of a man in an oily suit, and with an even greasier smile that Luke did not trust for a millisecond.

"Ah, good evening Sir!" the man greeted him warmly, showing stained teeth in a wide grin.

"Hello," Luke said in his best cocky tone. "I was referred to your… _business_ by a friend. I was assured by him that you would have what I seek."

The man cocked his head curiously. "I see, and what is it you are looking for, my good Sir?"

"I require female company tonight, but…" Luke hesitated for show, and his ploy worked to gain the man's attention further.

"Do go on, Sir."

"I have been elsewhere, but I have not found what I am desire." Luke leaned on the counter, taking on a conspiratorial tone. "You see, I have a preference in the female company I keep. And I do so hope you have the kind of woman I prefer?"

"I am most certain we do," the man said. "And we pride ourselves on taking care of our customers' every need and desire. Say what you want, and we will make it happen for you."

"Good." Luke nodded once. "I want a woman with red hair, green eyes… and pale skin. That I find to be a most… _appealing_ combination in a woman."

The man lifted a brow, but did not comment for a moment as he no doubt ran a list of candidates through his mind. When his eyes lit up, Luke knew he'd struck gold.

"Ah, you are in luck my friend." The man smiled again, though this time it was more predator-like. "We have just the woman: one of a kind as you say."

He extended a hand. "Garris Pernalta, I will be glad to make your wish come true."

Luke returned his grin equally, taking the proffered limb. "Very good. I also wish for complete privacy: we must not be disturbed in any way."

Garris bowed his head just so. "Of course. The rooms are free of any recording devices for just that purpose."

Luke made sure the man was telling the truth on that, and sensed with a degree of relief that it was indeed accurate information.

"Now, I will need you to sign a consent form, and then there will of course be a payment." Garris slid a datapad over the counter.

"Of course," Luke said as he pretended to skim the page. He signed and then took a credit-chip from his pocket, laying it on the counter.

"Ah, thank you, Mr.…" Garris glanced at the signature. "Hardspa. I will escort you to your chosen companion."

He noticed the bag for the first time. "Ah, would you like me to hold your bag for you, Sir?"

"No, I will require the contents to enjoy myself with the lady." Luke wanted to rip out his own tongue, but reminded himself firmly that he was here to rescue the poor woman.

Garris's eyes lit up with understanding, and he chuckled. "A good plan."

When they reached a turbolift near a set of stairs, Luke made sure to pay attention to the floor they were on and where they were going.

"I feel I should give you fair warning, though," Garris said once the lift began its ascent. "This particular woman has been… let's say difficult."

Luke lifted a brow. "Difficult how?"

His guide squirmed a touch. "She seems to have a knack for taking out any suitors, often causing bodily harm. But I assure you that will no longer be an issue: she has been subdued, and is ready for compliance."

Luke did not like the sound of that one bit, but managed a superior nod. "Good."

"You know," Garris said, clapping a hand on Luke's shoulder. It took all of the Jedi's willpower not to punch the pervert in the face. "I like you Mr. Hardspa. You know what you want, and you don't seem afraid to go out and take it. You're my kind of man."

They arrived on the sixth floor, and Luke couldn't wait to be free of the scumbag. They walked a good length down a seemingly empty hallway, and Luke began to feel dread curdle in his stomach. Finally they stopped at a door almost at the end, with only a blank wall a few meters beyond.

_Great, the only way out is the way we came. This is going to be _easy_._ Luke griped.

"Here we are!" Garris announced as he stopped before the door. "Do enjoy yourself, but be careful: she's a real Penelo."

Luke frowned. "A what?"

"A firecracker." Garris chuckled. "You'll see. Enjoy, and if you need anything, just let me know."

Luke waited until the man was far down the hall before he turned to the door. He swallowed hard.

This was it.

With a deep breath, Luke opened the door and quickly stepped inside. It was gloomy within the room, and once the door was shut his eyes had to adjust to the dim lighting. But once they did, Luke felt the air leave his body.

It was her! He recognized the eyes instantly.

And then he saw the rest of her: the swollen left ankle and right wrist, the deep bruising all over her thin form. It was clear from the way she sagged into the mattress that she was weakened and probably starving. Her hair was unkempt and tangled while her right ankle, chained to the bed, was red and rubbed raw from her shackle.

But when he refocused on her gaze, he saw then what he hadn't the first time: her nearly broken will, her self-loathing, and her utter despair.

It broke his heart to see her like this, and he swore he would not leave this planet without her.

When she spoke, taking him by surprise, it was barely a whisper.

"Just do what you came here for, and get out." She turned her head away.

Luke blinked, shaking his head. Under different circumstances, he might have stared at her body. It was barely clothed, which had to be humiliating for her. But seeing her state now, her good looks were the farthest thing from his mind.

Taking a cautious step forward, Luke spoke softly. "I am not here to harm you."

She snorted derisively. "Sure, that's what most of them have said."

Luke paused at that, biting his lip before continuing onward. "I came to help you."

He kept his movements steady and open as he approached the bed, making sure not to allow his eyes to roam, lest she think him a liar. She tracked him, her suspicion evident, but it was clear to him that she did not have the energy to repel him if he chose to come on to her anyway.

"May I sit?" he gestured to the foot of the bed.

Her eyes narrowed, obviously evaluating him. Warily she nodded, probably wondering at his odd approach. Luke settled gently on the mattress, slinging his backpack off his shoulders and opening it.

He ruffled about until he found the clothes he'd borrowed from Leia, pulling them out to set at her side. Her eyes widened, and she stared disbelievingly at the garments being offered. He could see the gears working as she assessed him.

"I can get you out of here." Luke assured her. "If you want to go. I will not force you into anything."

Her eyes lifted from the clothes to his face, a frown furrowing her brow.

"What are you playing at?" she demanded. "Do you think me so weak and gullible that I don't see a role-playing ploy when I'm faced with one?"

Luke jerked as though she'd slapped him. "Of course not! I really am here to help."

She managed to sit up, though it cost her, Luke could see. She panted heavily from the exertion.

"When's the last time you ate anything?" Luke wondered aloud, digging through his bag again.

He found his water skin and a ration bar. Pulling each of them out, he held his hands out for her to take them. When he looked up from his hands, he saw that her eyes were riveted on the offered items. It was clear from the way her mouth worked that she was desperate for both food and water.

"Go ahead, there's no catch." Luke assured her, setting the items down next to the clothes.

She looked from the food, to him, and back down before her hunger got the best of her and she snatched the ration bar from the sheet. Luke had never seen one of those bars devoured so quickly, but the thing was gone in a matter of seconds. The water skin was her next choice, and she took a great swig from it before she had to pull back for air.

She collapsed against the bed again, breathing hard, but her face was more at ease now. She sighed with obvious relief, and tilted her head to look at him.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Luke smiled softly. "A friend."

Her gaze became suspicious again, and rightfully so.

"I don't want my true identity to be revealed here," Luke explained. "This planet is hardly friendly to Force-users, after all."

That caught her interest. She struggled to sit again, her gaze focused intently on his now.

"What planet are we on, exactly?" she inquired.

"Nar Shaddaa," he answered.

She let out a string of colorful curses, taking him aback. When her gaze refocused on him, she cocked her head.

"Wait, Force-user?"

Luke nodded, using said abilities to break her shackle away. Or he began to. His instinct tingled a warning in the Force, and he knew then that someone was coming to their room.

If they found him in here having a conversation with the woman he'd supposedly come to make love to, they'd know something was wrong. He shoved the bag and the things he'd given her under the bed and then froze as the doorknob began to twist, ignoring her confused look.

The sound of booted feet sounded just outside the door, along with a man's deep voice.

"Sithspit!" Luke cursed, his mind frantic with what to do.

Not knowing what else could be done to avoid suspicion Luke pushed the woman to lie down, listening with a cringe as she elicited a startled shriek. She watched with almost terrified eyes while Luke yanked off his jacket and tugged his shirt over his head.

"I am _so_ sorry about this!" he whispered earnestly, his eyes begging for understanding as he moved to lay nearly atop her, tugging the sheet up to cover his lower body.

And not a moment too soon; for the door opened, and in strode a thick-set man. Luke waited until the guy was several steps in before he turned angry eyes his way.

"Do you mind?!" Luke roared at him, making the man stop in his tracks. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The man's jaw dropped at seeing him in the bed with the woman, and Luke leapt from the sheets to stomp toward him, getting in his face. Never mind that the man was a good head taller, and much thicker than the Jedi.

"Garris promised me complete privacy!" Luke yelled at him.

Finally the man found his voice, though it was clear he was still in awe.

"I heard Garris sent another poor soul in here to face that she-devil, and I had to come and see if he was alright."

Luke didn't relent his angry gaze, placing fisted hands on his hips. "Well, I _was_ doing just fine, thank you, until you barged in on us!"

The man blanched. "My apologies Sir."

When he turned to leave, the woman on the bed shouted to Luke. "Knock him out!"

Luke cast her an odd glance, and out of the corner of his eye saw the man stiffen. When the guard spun back around to go after the woman, Luke used the Force to close the door and then tackle the man from behind, grabbing him in a choke-hold.

The man growled indignantly, but Luke sensed his panic. He pounded on Luke's arms incessantly, making the Jedi cringe, but he maintained his hold. The man staggered backwards in an attempt to ram Luke into the wall, but he planted his feet, bent his knees, and shoved off.

The man, weak from lack of air, stumbled forward to land on his stomach. Luke tasted blood as his chin slammed forcefully into the other man's head. As last the man went limp, and once the Jedi was assured he was out cold, he released him.

Luke sat back, rubbing his arms even as he spat out a mouth full of blood. Rising to his feet, Luke approached the woman again. She was sitting up, eyeing him with a new respect, yet there was something in her gaze that gave him pause.

Luke studied her a moment, but she gave noting away. At last, he gingerly moved to where he had dropped his shirt, which just happened to be close to where she was.

He never saw it coming, but once his fingers grazed the fabric of his tunic, a fist slammed into his gut. Luke gasped in surprise, feeling a good amount of air leave his body.

Stars, this woman had a good arm!

Luke staggered back, his shirt grasped in his hand.

"What was that for?" he demanded.

"Don't you ever push me down like that again!" she warned him. "No one lies with me without my consent."

Luke stared at her, incredulous. But then her gaze softened a little, and she looked away.

"But thank you." she murmured.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven:**

Luke sighed, rubbing his abdomen where she'd hit him. The woman was slumped in a sitting position, obviously having used up what energy she had to deck him.

"You sure have an interesting way of showing gratitude," he murmured, but without any ire.

She frowned up at him, clearly still trying to puzzle him together. Just as he was trying to figure her out… but that would have to wait until they were free and clear.

"We need to get moving if we're going to get you out of here tonight." Luke bent down, careful to stay clear of her range this time, and grabbed the things he'd haphazardly thrown under the bed. He handed her the clothes again, and then bit his lip. "Um… can you get dressed on your own?"

She lifted a brow. "I think I can manage. However, we cannot just walk out of here."

Luke nodded. "I know: we'll have to do it covertly."

She shook her head. "No, I mean, _I_ cannot just leave."

It was his turn to frown. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Garris implanted a kill-chip in my neck," she answered cryptically.

Luke gaped momentarily before he caught himself and he blew out a sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Well, that will complicate things," he admitted. "Can it be deactivated?"

"I believe so, but Garris has the remote," she told him.

He pursed his lips in thought, and as he ran a hand through his dyed hair, his gaze fell on the unconscious guard. Inspiration struck, and Luke got to his feet.

"I think I may have a plan…" he said as he felt the man's pockets for a comm. link.

He felt her eyes on him and when he finally fished the communications device from the unconscious guard, Luke turned to face her.

"Are you okay, um, _role-playing_ a little longer?" he asked cautiously.

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you intend?"

"I'm going to call Garris in here, and tell him there is an issue with your neck." Luke explained. "I need you to pretend your chip is malfunctioning."

She looked thoughtful. "How do you know he won't just activate its function?"

Luke snorted. "Because that man is desperate to keep business going. Trust me, he will come."

He caught a flicker of something cross the lady's face, and she smirked sardonically. "You're right about one thing: he'll do anything to bring in more money." She sighed. "Okay, call him in. And hide the guard in the corner so he's harder to see."

"Right." Luke dragged the heavier man into the corner behind the door so that when Garris entered, he would have to close the door to see his fallen man. "We'll need to hide the clothing again. Don't want him to get suspicious."

"Fine."

**00000**

Mara watched the man— her supposed rescuer— as he called Garris up to her room in the guise of the guard. As they'd suspected, he informed the man he was on his way, and the stranger shut down the comlink.

When he turned to her, she was struck by the blue of his eyes, and Mara found herself inexplicably mesmerized. Somehow, she couldn't escape the feeling that this man was familiar to her.

But where had she seen him before?

He was still shirtless, no doubt to sell their act again, and she had to admit that of all the men who'd entered her 'domain', he was by far the best-looking. His torso, chest, and arms had the look of someone who kept in shape, but who wasn't a body-builder. His muscles were lean, yet powerful, and _very_ well built. He had obviously seen his share of action.

But there were other things about him that she noticed, now that she had the time to do so. It was clear he was not a natural black-head, something her practiced eye could pick out in the way the hair was unevenly dyed. Her training also enabled her to pick up the artificial accent he was using, and every once in a while his false voice slipped to reveal an outer rim accent.

But it was his eyes and his dampened Force-sense that encouraged her to trust him… at least for now. Because Mara could see in his eyes the truth of his being here to help her. He had no intentions of sleeping with her in such a way as their circumstances would allow.

And he had been nothing but gentle and open to her… apart from his name.

She cleared her throat to get his attention. "So, I get that you want to remain under cover, but what can I call you for now?"

He looked slightly surprised, as if he'd forgotten she had asked his name before.

"Oh, sorry." He shrugged. "Call me Treg." His gaze traveled to hers. "And you?"

"Arica."

He cocked his head, and she distinctly felt he knew she'd lied, but he didn't call her on it. He instead smiled softly.

"It's nice to meet you, Arica. I am sorry we had to meet like this, though." He waved at the room.

Mara opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment the door opened, admitting Garris. He stopped warily when he didn't see the guard, but he spotted an angry-looking Treg and decided to brave the waters. He glared openly at her, and then turned to Treg.

"I do apologize for the interruption," he said with a professional smile. "I can assure you I will find out what is wrong with her chip, and then you may resume your activities."

Luke snorted contemptuously. "You gave me your word that this establishment had its customers' best interests at heart. Well, I am not satisfied so far, and I expect that to change soon or I will demand a refund."

Garris blanched at that, but settled onto the bed beside Mara, who was grimacing enough to sell her 'pain'. While his back as to Treg, he sneered dangerously at her.

"This had better not be another of your acts, Penelo, or so help me I will feed you to my pet neks," he growled in a low tone.

Mara saw Treg tense behind her, and she felt his flash of anger that was instantly controlled. Fighting the urge to lift an eyebrow at her accomplice, Mara waited for Garris to bring out his remote.

The idiot never noticed Treg's silent approach from behind, nor did he see the 'customer' watching discreetly over his shoulder. Garris muttered a few curses as he scanned her neck, and then waited for the display to register the information for her chip.

"Finally," he muttered, and then frowned. "This readout says there is nothing wrong with the chip. You stupid wretch!"

He went to backhand her and Mara tensed in readiness, but his blow never landed. Treg caught Garris's fist in his own and yanked him from the bed. He then backed Garris forcefully into the wall at the head of the bed, making the dust rattle from the crevices.

Garris's eyes were wide as Treg snatched the controller from his grasp and tossed it back onto the bed. Then he landed a right-hook to Garris's face, and the man went down. Next Treg pulled something from his right boot.

Mara caught the glint of a knife's blade, and thought for a wild second that Treg planned to stab Garris. But instead he flipped the blade over and slammed the hilt into the base of Garris's neck, knocking the man out.

Mara watched Treg step back before he dragged the greasy owner into the same corner as his guard. He then turned toward her and lifted a hand.

Mara frowned; about to ask what he wanted when his bag steadily levitated to his outstretched palm. She gaped, watching with growing respect as the man tied up both her harassers.

Finally he stood with a sigh and returned to the bed, taking the device from her slackened grasp.

He noticed her expression and tilted his head. "What?"

She finally found her voice."You weren't kidding when you said Force-user."

He thinned his lips. "I promise to explain later. We don't have much time if we are going to pull this off." He picked up his shirt and began to dress again, snatching his jacket when his tunic was tucked in.

Mara had to agree, though she wondered where this man had learned to use the Force. She didn't see a lightsaber on him, something she knew a Jedi was supposed to wear.

_Blast it, Jade. You know this planet hates Jedi. Of course he wouldn't wear it openly here. You fool, you're going lax!_

But was that such a bad thing? Maybe she could actually make a friend by not being the cold-hearted killer she used to be.

She refocused on the man, who was packing his gear into the backpack. Again, those eyes… and now with his Force abilities, she knew she'd seen this person somewhere. But with his Force-signature being carefully shielded, she couldn't get a good read on him.

Mara had her suspicions as to the identity of her rescuer, but didn't know for certain. And she didn't want to assume, in case she was wrong. Because if this man was who she thought him to be, Mara didn't quite know what she would do.

With a sigh, Mara accepted the clothing he handed her for the third time now, and carefully pulled the shirt on over her head, wincing as the fabric brushed her bruised and aching body. Her back stung from the lashings Garris had recently given her in exchange for her attitude.

When she tried to put her pants on, however, she discovered she was unable to do so.

_Great, I'm an invalid._ Mara groused to herself, looking up at the man, who had his back to her.

She smiled softly at his chivalry.

**00000**

Luke turned away while she dressed to give her some privacy, mentally going through the rest of his newly-hatched escape plan. Once the receptionist figured out what was really going on, however, they would be in deep waters.

So it was imperative that once they were in the open that they make good time to his ship, which was, regrettably, docked a fifteen minute walk from here. But it had been the closest hangar he could find that was relatively trustworthy.

She cleared her throat behind him, and Luke turned to find her blushing.

"I need help please," she admitted as she held up her pants…though it was clear she'd rather do it herself.

"Of course." Luke knelt before her, ready to assist.

"But you'll need to find the key to my chains." She added wryly.

He blinked, having forgotten about Arica's shackles. "Oh, let me get that."

He used the Force to break the cuff, and it fell to the bed with a muffled _clink_ of metal. She hissed as her eyes settled on the raw skin on that ankle, a hiss that turned into a full-on grimace as the moved her gaze to her broken one.

"_Shavit_," she growled. "I will also need help walking... please."

"No worries," he assured her. "I had planned for that. I just need you to follow my lead."

He stepped up to her, holding out the hat the guard had been wearing, and she eyed it with open disgust.

"I am _not_ wearing that!" she snapped.

Luke frowned. "You need to look like him somewhat."

She glared, making him swallow in sudden apprehension. "No."

Luke sighed. "Alright, we'll do this another way, then. But you will have to stay silent, and you will need to restrict your movements to walking while I support you."

Arica lifted a brow, and Luke felt a slight twinge of annoyance. "Look, we really are running short on time. It's one or the other, so choose."

Her eyes flashed at his tone, but he held fast, and eventually she sobered. "Option 'B' please."

"Okay."

He helped her into the rest of the clothing he'd brought, though she would have to go without her left shoe for now. Then Luke hoisted her to her feet, called his bag to him again to sling over his shoulder and walked her from the room.

The halls were mercifully empty again, and so they met with no resistance as he led her slowly down the hall, using the Force to hide her identity. When they entered the turbolift, Luke sent it to the lobby.

As the indicator got to the desired floor, Luke whispered to Arica. "Do you trust me?"

A moment of silence was followed by a single, cautious nod.

"Okay." Luke went on. "Stay calm, and don't speak."

"Fine," Arica whispered back before the doors opened.

The front desk was being manned by a male tall enough to give Chewbacca a run for his money, though Luke had no idea how a human could be that tall. But he pushed aside his curiosity and trudged onward.

The receptionist frowned at the sight before him.

"What's going on here?" he asked suspiciously. "Who is this you're with?"

"It's one of your guys' guards." Luke panted for show as he shifted Arica's form slightly, being careful to keep her Force-disguise in place.

"Why is he limping?"

"That red-head's crazy!" Luke put just enough fear in his voice to sound convincing. "The woman beat this guy up pretty good when he came in to protect me from her. She tried to make me sing in the soprano if you know what I mean."

The man winced in sympathy, and Luke saw him shift on his stool to protect his groin in a subconscious response.

"Where are you taking him?" the receptionist asked with narrowed eyes as the duo continued onward.

"To the medical center," Luke replied, not stopping. "The least I can do for him in return is to get him to a doctor. Garris lost his comlink because she smashed it: he needs help in her room!"

The receptionist cursed, not stopping them, though Luke heard the man grumble to himself as he pulled out his comm. link to call security.

"Yeah, I don't understand why we still have that wretch. She's more trouble than any woman is worth."

Luke gritted his teeth, offended on Arica's behalf, but her gnawing pain kept him focused. He breathed an audible sigh of relief as they finally broke through the front door to the shop that disguised the second business.

"Phew, I thought we'd never make it out of there." He murmured to Arica, again shifting to take more of her weight, dropping the Force disguise.

When he caught sight of her face, it was ashen both with pain and dread.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded, not looking at him. "Yeah. Let's just get the hell out of here. Once they find out they've been played, it won't be pretty."

Luke smirked in satisfaction. "Well, then I guess it's a good thing I still have that remote."

She jerked her head to face him in surprise as they picked their way down the street. "What? You kept it?"

Luke nodded. "Yes. I don't know if he can access your chip from long distances, and I don't want to find out."

He felt her comprehension, followed by a pained wave of gratitude. "Good thinking."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight:**

Luke was beginning to wonder if he was just lucky enough— as Han would have said— to pull this gig off without too many hitches when a shout sounded behind them. Luke craned his neck to find a trio of armed men racing their way. They had been walking at a steady pace for a solid five minutes, and Arica's breathing was not within Luke's comfort zone.

"Time to move faster," he said, turning toward Arica.

Before she could protest, he picked her up and was now dashing away. She opened her mouth to rage at him, but caught sight of the men trailing them and snapped it shut again. Luke felt a warning in the Force, and ducked as the men began to shoot at him.

It was only a tiny bit of a relief that they were shooting to stun, not kill, as Luke knew he'd be in for a wallop of trouble if they caught him. And he didn't _want_ to think of what they would do to Arica.

He opened himself to the Force, dodging their incoming fire: left, then right, then right again. Pedestrians along the walkway scrambled out of his way even as Luke strove to weave a path through their numbers. But it seemed the guards from Garris's company didn't care about hitting innocent bystanders.

Luke put on a burst of speed in the Force, and ducked into a deserted alleyway. Once he was deep within he stopped, carefully setting Arica down behind a dumpster and turning around. The men were just ducking around the corner, weapons still raised as they approached determinedly to where Luke waited in the dark end of the open air corridor.

"Give us the wench, and you can go on your way," the lead man said. He was smoking a pipe casually, the thick smoke clouding his face whenever he gave a puff.

"You really expect me to believe that?" Luke replied brusquely.

"What happens to our property is our business, not yours." The man shot back.

Luke felt a flash if indignation swell through him, and he tempered it. "This _woman_ is not anyone's property, no matter if a kill-chip sits in her neck. No one should be forced to give sexual favors like that."

Pipe, as Luke dubbed him, laughed caustically. "You are a saint, aren't you?"

Luke shook his head. "No, just a man: but thank you for the compliment."

The man sneered contemptuously. "Give it up, Treg… if that's even your name. The wench comes with us now, or we kill you and _then_ take her back."

The trio was now only a few paces away, and well out of sight of the alley's mouth. Luke shifted his weight, prepared to fight. The men saw this and laughed openly at him.

"You're outnumbered and outgunned." Pipe remarked scornfully. "You don't stand a chance with an injured wench to help you."

Luke waited for the right moment, trusting the Force to lead him. "I'll take my chances."

The other man shrugged. "It's your funeral Bub."

He signaled to his other men, and they fanned out as much as the alley would allow while their point man took aim at Luke. When he fired his shot, Luke was already in a different place, having sensed where the man would shoot.

With a surprised shout, the man took aim again but Luke dodged still, moving fluidly. His attacker snarled and shouted to his men.

"Take him down!"

Three blasters took shots at him, and Luke gave himself over to the Force. Time seemed to slow for Luke, and he felt as though he were an action-holo actor, dodging slow-moving lasers at leisure. His body twisted, ducked, and swerved in an intricate dance, moving faster than the men's' eyes could follow until he stood just before their leader.

As he'd predicted, the other two stopped firing to avoid hitting Pipe. Luke slapped the man's blaster aside and drove a heel down on Pipe's toes. He yelped, even as Luke stepped in to land an elbow to his ribs.

Pipe caught Luke about the wrist of his free hand, using Luke's position against him. Pipe shoved Luke face-first into the wall, slamming the butt of his weapon into Luke's right shoulder.

Luke jerked in pain, feeling it down to his toes.

"Get the female!" Pipe barked at his henchmen, who nodded to each other and strode confidently toward Arica.

Luke used Pipe's split attention against him, snapping his head back into the man's face. Pipe screamed as blood spurted, splattering the back of Luke's neck. He spun, grabbed Pipe by the arm, and yanked him forward to slam into the wall.

The other man rebounded horribly, and fell with a sickly thud to the pavement. Luke pulled out his blaster and aimed for the remaining men. The first saw this and ducked Luke's shot, returning fire.

Luke dove behind the first spot of cover he could find, which was behind a stack of crates… and nearly jumped out of his skin to find Arica emerge from the shadows.

"How'd you get over here?" he asked her.

She gestured to the dumpster, which had a small amount of space between it and the wall: just enough for someone to crawl through.

"Oh. Good thinking." Luke ducked as blasterfire _zinged_ by over the crates, and then leaned out to return fire.

Luke heard a yell, and then spotted one man looking down the narrow escape corridor Arica had used. Luke bit back a curse, taking a shot at him, and the man took cover behind the dumpster.

As for the man still in the open, he continued to lay down suppression fire, even as he moved to where Luke would be exposed. The Jedi sensed a warning in the Force, and jerked Arica down flat just as a blast blew by where her head had been seconds earlier.

The distraction provided by Arica's attacker allowed Luke's to move faster, and now he was staring straight at the Jedi. Gritting his teeth, Luke used the Force to jerk the blaster from the man's grasp, feeling as he did so a brief pressure on his left boot.

His attacker dove after his weapon, which allowed Luke to move as well. The two men ended up in a jousting charge; Luke held out one arm to clothesline his hit-man, and the guy went down with a _crack _of his head.

"Look out!" Arica called.

Luke spun in time to see the final man spring from his cover and charge Luke in a rage. Luke readied himself for the attack, wondering why the man didn't just shoot him. But the guy never made it.

Halfway there, a glint of light off hard metal shone, and then there was a knife in the man's chest. His eyes went wide with shock, while his momentum carried him staggering to Luke's feet, where he at last crumpled with his final breath.

Luke stared in shock, seeing the hilt of his own vibro-dagger sticking out of the man's body.

He glanced at his left boot, recalling the pressure, and then lifted his gaze to meet Arica's. She lay slouched against the wall now, but there was a hard glint to her eye just then.

"Did you throw that?" he asked in awe.

"Yes," she whispered, gesturing him forward. "Grab the knife so they can't I.D us, and let's go."

Luke nodded, knowing she was correct. He collected the knife, wiped it off on the dead man's clothes, and picked her up again. He sprinted for the mouth of the alley and then stopped to cautiously peer both ways.

He saw no one else, and so stepped out to rejoin the foot traffic; keeping his head low and using the Force to hide both their identities.

**00000**

"We've got their holos out to every port authority on this side of town, Sir."

Garris nodded, his face hard as he accepted the bit of news from his head of security. "That's good, Rogg."

"If they show up, they'll be stopped." Rogg went on to assure him.

"I want them alive, Rogg," Garris warned. "I _will_ have my revenge. That woman will die slowly and painfully while the man watches."

"Yes sir." Rogg acknowledged.

**00000**

Luke didn't believe in luck per-se, but he didn't want to jinx their good fortune of having made it to the hangar without further tails. Yet something was niggling the back if his mind, a sensation of being watched without a source to locate.

His nerves were crawling when he at long last stepped inside the small hangar he'd docked in. It was quiet, almost too much so. Luke sent out a Force probe, checking the area before crossing the open hangar floor. He'd be vulnerable out there, especially with Arica unable to walk well.

When nothing immediate set off his senses, he took a few tentative steps forward. He was halfway to his ship when the danger sense in the back of his head blared into a klaxon. Luke glanced behind him to see a collection of hangar security men coming his way at a quick jog.

Luke sprinted the remaining distance, and then set Arica down. "Get it open!"

"Hold up there!" the deck officer called.

"What's the code?" Arica asked as he turned to face the men, calling his lightsaber to his hand from a hidden pocket in his pant leg.

"Seven-nine-zero-eight-five!" Luke called as the men opened fire.

Luke ignited his lightsaber with a _ snap-hiss_, its emerald blade moving to deftly deflect the men's' shots away from Arica and himself. He felt her shock at his weapon, followed by a brief surge of something he couldn't identify.

But she was professional enough to open the hatch as he'd requested. She staggered up the ramp, Luke following backwards while he continued to repel the attacks. Arica raised the ramp again, and as soon as the blasterfire cut off, Luke grabbed Arica into his arms and sprinted for the cockpit.

"Get strapped in!" he told her as he set her in the copilots' chair.

**00000**

Mara did a double take when she noticed the lights were already green, indicating the ship was ready for takeoff. How had he managed _that_? Was he _that_ proficient in the Force?

She jumped when a series of tootles and whistles emitted from her left, and Mara only then saw the silver and blue astromech droid. He was nestled in his alcove, obviously having readied the ship for departure… or more than likely keeping it warm per Treg's orders.

He'd probably planned for just this sort of an exit.

Mara frowned, recognizing the droid, but her thoughts were interrupted by Treg talking to his metal companion.

"Artoo, did you get the door's codes?" Treg asked.

An affirmative bleep from the astromech was all the man needed, and he lifted the ship from the deck, ignoring the men outside. The hangar doors trundled open, and Treg nursed the throttle until the gap was barely wide enough to admit them.

They shot from the hangar at a reckless speed, causing Mara to grip the seat's armrests in a white-knuckled grip. Treg expertly avoided hitting the nearby skyscrapers even as the security forces gave pursuit.

He wove among the buildings, hugging their curves to shave off seconds. They wove among the air traffic, swerving to avoid near-collisions that made Mara tense in terror.

And all the while Treg pulled for atmosphere.

Mara tried to steady her pounding heart, and found to her surprise that she was actually enjoying herself more than she'd thought. Treg was obviously an ace pilot, as he was giving the security forces a run for their money.

A few hits were scored on their aft shields, but Treg didn't relent his crazy flight, and soon they were clear of all buildings. Mara watched as the filthy skies of Nar Shaddaa became the clear vacuum of space.

Artoo squealed a warning just as a thicker white blast shot by… narrowly avoided when Treg jinked hard to port.

"Ion blasts!" Treg grated. "Artoo, how are shields?"

"_Dooeep, treetle weet,_" the droid responded, and she noticed the man only glance briefly at the display. He evidently understood his droid more than she did.

"Okay, keep the rear shields at maximum capacity." Treg ordered as he again evaded more blasts.

Another affirmative beep from the droid, and then Treg's hands were flying over the navicomputer.

"Artoo, set a random jump to shake these guys if they try following us," Treg instructed.

Mara listened to the pair working together as would age-old friends; marveling at how efficiently they worked. She had never been allowed to work with any one person long enough to form such a bond, as she had been a solo agent.

The few times she actually _had_ been ordered to work with a partner, she had nearly gone crazy. Mara had found that she preferred to work alone: it meant she didn't have to seek her partner's approval for anything.

She heard the droid whistle to the pilot, who nodded that he'd heard. Mara watched the stars outside the viewport whirl as Treg took the shuttle into a steep, spiraling climb. He straightened out, checked the navicomputer, and then shoved the hyperspace levers forward.

Stars stretched into starlines, and he sat back with a sigh. It was only a few minutes later when the shuttle reverted to realspace, and Treg took them through a second random jump before finally imputing the actual coordinates into the navicomputer.

Treg slumped wearily into the pilot's seat, running a hand through is hair.

Mara observed him quietly, feeling his exhaustion mirror her own. Finally the silence grew too heavy for her.

"Nice flying," she commented.

He shot her a sheepish grin, shrugging it off. "Thanks."

Mara smirked at his response and leaned into her seat, thanking the Force for finally getting her away from that hell-hole Garris had placed her in.

**00000**

Garris slammed an angry fist on his desk, having just dismissed Rogg after the man delivered the bad news.

He should have know something was up when that fellow came in, and now his blindness had cost him a wench!

Garris thought about placing a bounty on the couple's head, but he realized he didn't even know their real identities, which only made him fume harder. The man had obviously played Garris for a gullible fool, and his identity was no doubt a forgery.

_Blast it! If I ever see those two again, they will die agonizing deaths!_

Still…

Pursing his lips, Garris decided to place a bounty on their heads just in case luck decided to favor him.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine:**

"_He went WHERE?!_" Leia Organa roared.

Han flinched noticeably. "Nar Shaddaa."

The smuggler did not need the Force to feel the waves of anger emanating from the brunette. Her eyes blazed like chocolate fire, making him grateful he wasn't Luke in that moment. The kid would pay dearly for giving his sister the slip.

"What the hell is he doing there?" Leia asked incredulously, the first tinges of fright seeping into her tone.

"Luke went to help someone, Leia," Han explained patiently. "Someone was in real trouble, and he was on pins and needles about it." He shook his head in recollection. "You should have seen him."

Leia pierced him with a fierce glare. "Yes, I _should_ have."

Han thinned his lips. "Leia, he _is_ an adult, and a Jedi."

"He's also reckless at times." Leia ground out.

"Not nearly as much as he used to be." Han countered mildly. "Leia, he's not the same boy I brought off that dust ball all those years ago. He's a grown man with a level head and a whole Force-full arsenal at his disposal. And hells; if he can take on Palpatine _and_ Vader and survive, then I think he deserves a little more credit than you're giving him."

Leia sighed, her anger deflating along with her small frame as she collapsed onto the bed.

"I know, Han," she said softly. "I'm just scared for him. I mean, _Nar Shaddaa_ of all places?"

Han joined her on the bed, wrapping her in an embrace. "I know; I had just about the same reaction. But we need to trust him to take care of himself."

"I do trust him," Leia assured Han.

"Then let him be."

"Only until he returns." Leia's voice was steel. "And if Luke returns alive, all the better… because I will kill him for sneaking off like this."

Han couldn't quite hide his snigger.

_Don't say I didn't warn you, Kid._

**00000**

Luke rose from the pilot's chair and turned to Arica, who was just about asleep. He moved next to her.

"Would you like me to move you to one of the bunks?" he offered.

She cracked an eye open, and then nodded. "Yes please."

He gently hefted her light frame into his arms and carried her to the larger of the rooms, where a good-sized bunk waited with her name on it. He settled her in, and then carefully inventoried her injuries.

"I don't know what the med kit is like on board," he admitted. "I wasn't prepared for you to be so… injured."

"It's okay." She murmured.

Luke eyed her briefly, and then left the cabin to retrieve the medical kit. He also grabbed his backpack, recalling some medical supplies Han and Lando had sent along with him as well. When he re-entered Arica's room, he saw that she was staring blankly at the wall.

Something in her stance gave him pause, and is stride faltered. Biting his cheek indecisively, Luke wondered if he should give her a moment.

His mind was made up for him when she moved her legs and released a quiet noise of pain. Luke stepped up to her bunk, setting the med-kit and his pack on a nearby desk so he could peruse their contents.

There was only one air-splint, which meant she would have to decide which limb she wanted it on. On the brighter side, the kit looked like it had plenty of antiseptic and bandages for her other wounds. He glanced toward her to find that she hadn't moved.

"Arica?" he said softly.

She glanced at him, her gaze weary. And yet… there was something else in their emerald depths; a touch of self-loathing and despair left over from her time with Garris perhaps? Luke sighed inwardly, wishing he could take away her pain.

Almost as though she'd heard his thought, she finally turned her head and studied him openly.

He took that as a good sign, and continued. "I'd like to tend to your injuries, if you would allow me to."

She kept quiet for a long moment, and then nodded. "Do what you need to."

Luke hesitated. "I'll need you to remove your outer clothing again."

She sighed, but moved to do as he'd requested. Arica was still wearing her lingerie— having simply thrown Leia's clothes on over top to save time— so she wouldn't be completely nude. Even so, Luke vowed to work quickly and then find her the bra and panties he'd also borrowed from his sister.

_I just hope they fit_. Luke thought with a small amount of chagrin.

"I need help please." She murmured, and Luke saw that her pants were down as far as she could get them.

Luke reached out and carefully removed her pants, and then assisted her in the removal of her shirt. She used her wan energy to roll over so he could see her back, and Luke gasped.

He hadn't seen her lashings before now, since his attention hadn't been on her body so much as their escape. The lacerations crisscrossed her back from the base of her neck all the way down to her tailbone, red and angry looking. He gently probed them with his fingers, and realized that they were a few days old, and some had puss. Many of them looked infected.

Luke wasn't surprised by that, given the conditions Arica had been forced to live in. He set to work cleaning them out; apologizing softly each time she winced or hissed. He kept his movements as steady and gentle as he could in an effort to minimize her discomfort.

"How long, exactly, were you in that room?" Luke asked once he'd finished bandaging her back and helped her roll back over.

He felt her tense; sensed her hesitation in the Force. She deliberated for a time on how much to tell him, and Luke didn't press her as he continued to minister to her injuries. He felt her gaze track him the entire time, so he was extra careful not to stare or allow his touch to linger any longer than was necessary.

Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and slightly hoarse. "I don't have an exact number, but I think about two weeks, give or take."

Luke's brow shot up. "Oh." Was all he could manage to say in that moment.

He completed tending to each superficial and skin-deep injury, then set aside the antiseptic and the tiny amount of leftover bandages. He pursed his lip in thought, eyeing her ankles and wrist.

"Well, I only have the single splint, and since your left ankle is broken I'm going to use it on that limb," Luke observed. "Your wrist is not broken, just seriously sprained. And your right ankle I already bandaged."

"Okay." Arica had her eyes closed, and her breathing was a lot steadier now, much to his relief.

Luke pulled a bacta shot from the kit and gave her a dose before setting the splint. That left only her wrist. But he didn't have enough bandages to wrap it properly. He glanced at his shirt, and made a decision.

Pulling his tunic from his pants, Luke tore off enough of it to securely wrap her limb. The sound of ripping fabric snapped Arica's eyes open, and she turned wide eyes on him as he stepped forward in his ruined tunic.

Luke set about wrapping her wrist after giving her limb a shot of the healing bacta as well. At last he finished and settled back to observe his handiwork. He managed to stifle a grimace: she looked like a mummy now that she had so many bandages on.

Arica looked upon herself as best as she could, and then lay her head back down. Luke nodded, satisfied that he had not missed anything. He put the medical equipment away and then left the cabin to retrieve the remainder of the clothes he'd brought for Arica.

"I don't know if you want to change into these, I brought them just in case." Luke told her when he walked back into the room.

He saw her eyes light up with fervent relief upon seeing the much more modest undergarments he offered, and she struggled into a sitting position. She fumbled for the clasp of her lingerie top, causing Luke to blush and back away, averting his eyes respectfully.

"I'll give you your privacy."

"Wait."

Luke paused, not looking up lest he see something she didn't want him to. Through his peripheral vision, he saw her continue to struggle against her outfit, and felt her frustration that she was so helpless. His heart went out to her. Luke knew he would probably be just as frustrated as she if their roles were reversed.

"Blast it!" she finally cursed. "I can't get my arms to work with all these kriffing bandages. They won't bend enough for me to take my top off." She turned tortured eyes his direction, and Luke finally met them. "Please help me… again."

Luke nodded, wondering at her mood swings. He shook off his uncertainty though, passing it off as her way of coping with her ordeal. Luke settled behind her on the cot, where he could help her without getting a full view of her anatomy. He sensed she didn't want that, and the last thing Luke desired was for her to be forced into more unnecessary discomfort.

Luke was gentle in removing her top, carefully shifting the intricate straps over her bandages so as to not bump them. When at last the contraption was free of her body, she snatched it from him and promptly ripped it to pieces.

Luke smirked, giving her a mental thumb up. He took the bra in his hands and held it out before her from behind, and she slipped her limbs through the simple straps. Luke clasped it for her, and then pursed his lips.

"Uh… is that too tight?" he asked gingerly.

"No, its fine thanks," she assured him, patting his arm. "You have no idea what a relief it is to finally have some support up top after two weeks in that _thing_." She gestured to the tattered remains of her lingerie top.

"Uh… if you say so." He ventured timidly, not wanting to upset her.

She snickered at him. "So modest."

Luke blushed, but she grasped his hand as he left the bed. "Thank you for coming for me."

He gave her a genuine smile. "Of course."

She glanced down at her bottoms. "Ah… if I could embarrass us both again, I need help finishing dressing."

Luke noticed she was shivering, and so he closed his eyes, drew her panties down, and peeked only long enough to get her legs inside the fresh pair. The pants and shirt went back on, and then Luke produced a pair of socks.

She sighed contentedly, settling into her cot with the most serene expression he'd seen on her yet. She still shivered a little though, so Luke grabbed a second blanket from a cabinet under the bed.

He tucked it around her and she smiled drowsily at him. The next thing he knew she was fast asleep.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten:**

Luke couldn't wait to get out of his disguise. His hair felt like he'd been swimming through a pile of grease, and his face itched where the putty was drying out. He checked on his newfound companion to make sure she was fine, and then went to the refresher to clean up and become Luke Skywalker again.

He stripped from his clothing and then leaned toward the mirror so he could remove his facial alterations. Little by little the putty came free, and each piece pulled at the hairs on his skin as it was removed, making him feel ticklish and itchy all at once.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he finished, working his skin gingerly with his fingertips along his facial features to ease any residual tightness. Next he grabbed the hair-dye removal and bent over the sink.

It took him several long, tedious minutes to remove the dark dye from his dirty-blond hair, but at long last he could find no traces of black in his locks. With a happy breath of air, Luke finished his clean up with a sonic shower.

He stayed in the spray once he'd finished soaping up, allowing the warmth to relax tense and sore muscles.

**00000**

On her bunk, Mara was lost to vivid dreams of the night of her capture: a set of visions that wasn't to her remembrance… but was rapidly taking a turn for the worst.

_She was racing down the corridors, her mind spinning almost wildly out of her control. Behind her were crowds of people, all calling for her blood. _

_Mara raced through the halls, her footsteps that normally echoed in the grandiose halls lost to the pervading thunder of the stampede hot on her heels. Mara passed a doorway and she skidded to a halt. _

_She dove inside, hiding behind a desk. But the crowd, with far too many seeing eyes for her to effectively disappear, followed eagerly. _

_The next thing she knew she was in the Emperor's quarters, and Mara opened the door to the secret passages the tapestries concealed. But the hordes of people were suddenly all over, swarming in from all available entrances, secret or otherwise. _

_Mara was now surrounded and she whipped out her blaster, taking shots. But the crowd surged forward and seized hold upon her. _

_Suddenly she was no longer inside the Imperial Palace, but strung by all fours to a dancer's post, naked for all to see. The masses were now laughing and jeering at her. _

_Mara screamed in outraged humility, seeking to use the Force to hide her form from the prying eyes, but there were too many. _

Upon her bed, unaware that she was undoing all of her rescuer's hard work, Mara's body quivered heavily as she tossed and turned.

**00000**

Luke had just toweled off when he felt Arica's first spike of fear. It was nothing much at first, but it did give him pause. Frowning, Luke proceeded to dress, making it as far as his under garments and his pants before the woman's fear morphed into horror.

Her scream echoed down the corridor and Luke responded instantly, racing back to her cabin. As soon as he spotted her jerking body, Luke jumped to her side, grabbing her shoulders in his hands.

"Arica!" Luke whispered urgently.

Her only response was to shriek while in the throes of her nightmare and shy back from his touch, so Luke shook her carefully.

"Arica!" he called louder. "Wake up!"

Arica gasped, but still did not wake, almost as if she was trapped. Luke thinned his lips and reached for her in the Force, carefully separating her from her nightmare.

Arica's eyes snapped open, and her breathing was labored from her efforts to get away from her terror. She looked around wildly for a second before her eyes rested on Luke.

"Hey, it's okay," Luke soothed. "It was just a dream."

Arica promptly patted her body as if to reassure herself that she was still clothed; never mind that she was drenched in perspiration. Luke noted with chagrin that her bandages had mostly come undone; though her ankle and wrist remained safely wrapped, for which Luke was glad.

In a moment of disorientation, Arica backed away from him warily.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Luke smirked wryly. "It's me, I just removed my disguise."

She narrowed suspicious eyes, taking him in with a clear, keen gaze. As she studied him, Luke saw the first inklings of recognition light up her intelligent eyes. Arica's stare roamed over his body quickly, but lingered on his face, peering into his eyes as though she could see into his very soul. Luke squirmed a touch at the intensity of her gaze, but his attention was held fast when her recognition changed again. Her green orbs now registered something far deeper than mere identification.

This woman remembered him.

_But from where?_ Luke wondered.

"What is your real name?" Arica asked with the air of someone seeking verification of something they already suspected.

"Luke Skywalker," he answered honestly.

Instead of the awe most people seemed to display upon realizing who they were talking to, Arica merely nodded as though they were old school-mates, and she'd simply forgotten his name.

"I thought so," she admitted. "I suspected your identity back on Nar Shaddaa, but I didn't want to assume and be wrong."

Luke was surprised. "Am I that bad an actor?" he quipped.

Arica actually smirked. "You're not too bad, but you need some more experience."

Luke chuckled. "I managed well enough this time."

Her humor sobered, and she looked away. "Yes."

Sensing her need for solitude, Luke nodded once and backed out of the room.

**00000**

Once she was alone again, Mara's melancholy returned.

How in space was she going to move on after her wretched experience?

_Fool, you're an ex-Emperor's Hand! _Mara chided herself vehemently. _Use your training to build yourself a new life._

Mara sighed: that was easier said than done.

_Where do I start?_ Mara wondered. _I have no friends, and my accounts in the Empire are most likely frozen or taken back by whoever is in charge. I have nothing but the shirt on my back._

Mara snorted disdainfully. She didn't even have that… these clothes were borrowed from Skywalker.

She'd lost everything the day the Emperor had died.

And while she _had_ been trying to extricate herself from him anyway, she never could have foreseen where she would land next. Had the Force granted her the foresight of what her life would become upon the Empire's end…

Well, Mara would more than likely have actually killed Skywalker.

But then she recalled how confused she'd been before she'd gone to Jabba's palace. She had been on the fence, teetering toward the Rebel's side, but at that time she hadn't found what she needed to sway her completely.

That is, until Skywalker had shown up.

His presence had changed everything for her, making her realize perhaps for the very first time just how cold, oppressing and overpowering those of Darth Vader and especially Palpatine had been. Having grown up with that, Mara hadn't known there was a difference: it hadn't bothered her until that fateful day months ago.

But once she'd been exposed to the Jedi's warmth, to his light and openness, she had both seen and felt the vastness of the distinction between Sith and Jedi.

For the first time ever, Mara had been repelled by the Emperor's stench, his rotting presence; not just physically, but in the Force.

Mara was brought around to her previous line of thinking: would she actually have killed Skywalker had she known where she would end up?

Mara sighed again, tears spilling from her green eyes.

She really didn't know for sure how she would have reacted; but what was done was done, and there was no going back.

That left her with only where she would go.

But still, she found it hard to dwell on anything but the past two weeks: on how Garris had treated her so horribly. How she had been forced to wear that wretched outfit, which concealed just enough to keep the barest parts of her anatomy covered.

She had been pretty much as visible to the men who entered her room as she'd been in her dream. How did she just move on from that? Especially when she had nowhere to go, with no means of transportation, and not even a shirt to call her own?

A wave of hopelessness engulfed her, and Mara felt suddenly as though she were a kid that couldn't swim, and who'd just been dropped into a deep pool. She struggled against the tide of despair that threatened to overwhelm her, floundering against the tidal-wave of dark emotion.

She felt suffocated by the despondency, and it was all she could do not to choke on her own sobs. Mara didn't know how long she wallowed in her misery before a gentle hand touched her shoulder.

Instantly a cautious mental hand was extended to her, and Mara was enraptured by it. Even in her state of mind, this man wasn't forcing her to accept his help. But Mara desperately needed it… needed _him_ she now realized.

Mara had no idea what depths that had come from, but the moment that thought crossed her mind, she _knew _it was the right path for her.

And so she took his proffered hand, and allowed Luke Skywalker to save her… again.

**00000**

Luke drew Arica back from the dangerous depths of her despair with a firm, but gentle tug. He enveloped her in his warmth and light, sending her every encouraging thought he could muster until she turned to face him.

Her face was slick with tears, and her eyes still sorrowful, but she was beginning to recover. She grabbed his hand that rested upon her shoulder and held it tightly.

"Please lie with me," she pleaded whisper-quietly.

Luke recalled the last time he'd lain with her, and he offered an imitation of Han's famous lopsided grin.

Rubbing his abs in ginger remembrance, he asked. "Is it safe to do so?"

To his delight she snorted with momentary laughter. "Yes, because I asked you to."

Luke chuckled, and then sobered again as she did.

"Please… Luke," Arica implored tentatively. "I… I need you."

It took Luke a tremendous effort not to gawk at her admission, and even so, he couldn't conceal his surprise. Luke held her gaze, studying her in the Force and gauging how serious she was, also being mindful of her frame of mind.

To his surprise, her mind was clear… but her loneliness called to him like nothing ever had before, and he nodded.

Taking off his boots, Luke carefully climbed into the cot behind her. Arica hesitated uncertainly, but when he wrapped his arms around her protectively she melted against him, needful of his touch, his presence.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven:**

Mara woke some time later, disoriented. Her first inclination was to balk when she felt the pressure of someone's arms pressing into her. But then her mind caught up with her adrenaline, and she remembered Luke.

He'd been a gentleman the entire time she'd known him, even in her room when he'd leapt into bed with her. She recalled with a degree of humor how flustered he had been at that moment, begging her for understanding.

And so it was again.

He'd held her as she had asked him, but hadn't made any romantic moves toward her. And Mara had never wanted to kiss a man in gratitude so much as now. But she restrained herself when her wandering gaze rested upon his sleeping face.

He looked so at peace and so… innocent when he slept. His face was relaxed and carefree, with his lips slightly parted. Mara watched his chest rise and fall steadily, entranced. Her eyes took in what they could without jostling her newfound friend, while her memory filled in the rest.

He was indeed a very handsome man, with his sandy hair and eyes of blue. He was toned to perfection, with muscles that were for much more than just show. Mara had been surprised last night by how gentle such a strong and powerful man could be. His hands, calloused and work-worn as they were, had been surprisingly soft against her skin.

She sighed quietly, snuggling back against him; listening to his heartbeat, to the intakes and outlets of air as he snored ever-so-softly. Never before had Mara felt as secure as she did while in Luke Skywalker's arms. She allowed herself to revel in their tender strength, and his innate desire to protect the woman beside him.

And then there was his voice…

For some reason, Luke's voice put her at ease; his even, calm tones a balm to her ears. She was used to Palpatine and Vader's voices: Palpatine with his cracked and gravelly speech; his ever-harsh tones, even in the rare moments of pride or happiness. And Vader, with his booming, deep bass vocoder that had always been intended to instill fear and respect.

But when Luke spoke, he wasn't speaking _at _her, but _to _her… _with_ her. And he listened in return when _she_ spoke. He cared about her, and what happened to her.

A stray memory drifted across her mind then, one from before her master's death.

_What would it be like for a man to love her enough to go into the depths of hell to get her?_

Her heart skipped a beat as the implications hit her, but she shook her head. It was far too soon for something like that between them… wasn't it? Was it possible for people to fall in love the first time they met?

Mara had absolutely no experience with love, and so she had no way of answering that. The realization of this sparked something within Mara, a frightening sensation she'd not known was possible.

She felt a salty wetness tickle her lips, and she abruptly grasped that she was weeping. But the more she tried to stop the flow of tears, the harder they seemed to fall, until she was sobbing silently, her chest quivering with each uneven breath she drew.

The security of Luke's arms kept her close to him… and despite her misgivings, her fear of rejection, Mara instinctively sought his shoulder.

His grip tightened momentarily, and then his voice sounded into the half-lit room; thick with sleep, but concerned nonetheless.

"Arica?"

Her false name coming from his lips only caused Mara's heart to clench again. How could this man ever learn to love her if he didn't even know her real name? Did _anyone_ know her real name? Vader and Palpatine had been about the only two people in existence who knew of, and could talk about her. Her instructors had been sworn to silence under pain of death.

"Arica, what's wrong?" Luke asked again, his voice clearer now.

And Mara couldn't help herself: she _had _to tell someone her name. It burned inside her chest like an oil-fire, demanding to be freed.

"Mara!" she cried with a loud voice.

There was a moment of silence, in which she realized Luke had pulled back a little to gaze at her face.

"What?" He cocked his head slightly, brow furrowed.

"Mara." She spoke softer now, not quite able to meet his gaze. "It's my name: Mara Jade."

She sensed Luke's comprehension in the Force, and then she felt him rolling the name about on his mental tongue for a moment. To her surprise, she did not feel a sense of anger or betrayal from him, but one of acceptance. In fact, if Mara didn't know any better, she'd have thought he'd been given the final piece to a mystery with the way his Force sense lit up.

That was the other thing that drew her to him: his presence. It was just so warm, vibrant, and welcoming. How could she _not _be drawn to it? His spirit nudged hers like the warm rays of the sun on a tropical beach, turning the insides of her eyelids a rosy orange as it filtered through her natural defenses.

Mara felt his hand gingerly caress her hair, and she froze in shock. Sensing her discomfort, Luke instantly withdrew his hand.

"Sorry," he murmured. "It's just…" He broke off, probably not wanting to scare her away.

But Mara still hadn't moved.

Years of isolation— and of keeping various appendages of the blasted males in the Imperial Court at bay— caused her defenses to instinctively reared their ugly heads, and Mara's first thought was to break the Jedi's fingers.

But her shock at how wonderful his caress had felt overwhelmed all other mental functions, until she could focus on nothing else.

She did not understand how a man running his fingers over and slightly through her red-gold hair could have elicited such… sparks. His touch, while normally would have been viewed as offensive, now sent shivers down her spine.

No one had _ever_ touched her as he'd just done.

His wasn't the possessive touch of some man hoping to slate his deprived male ego with her body. Rather, it was that of someone who realized that they'd just found someone they had unconsciously been searching for. Like a husband touching the hair of his wife, long thought dead, and now standing before him in the flesh.

All of this flashed through Mara's mind in the space of a long minute, during which she became aware that Luke was preparing to leave the bed. She could sense his concern that he had crossed a line.

But she did not feel ready to let him leave her side just yet, nor did she want him to suffer from a guilty conscience.

"Wait." Mara gently placed a hand on his shoulder as he sat up.

That movement, however, broke the spell as pain coursed through her then. Hissing between her teeth, Mara dropped the limb. Luke hovered over her again, his eyes showing his growing apprehension.

Mara gritted her teeth through the pain, willing her companion to stay. Almost as if he could read her mind, Luke settled down onto his arm.

"Mara…" he paused momentarily as if savoring the taste of her name on his tongue for the very first time. "I… I can help you in a different way. I admit I haven't had much practice, but I was taught some Force healing techniques. If you would like, I can put you in a healing trance."

Mara allowed her curiosity to show. Here was another way Luke was different from Palpatine and Vader: neither of the latter two could heal with the Force. Was it even possible?

Mara snorted inwardly. Her Master had always scoffed at the ways of the Jedi, and yet, there were things the Light Side of the Force could do that completely outshone the Dark Side.

Sniggering at the pun, Mara nodded slowly. "Alright."

His small, answering smile made Mara's heart flutter— another new sensation for her— and she swallowed nervously. But she pushed aside her silly notions, and instead focused on the instructions Luke was now giving her.

"Lie on your back, and I'll lie down beside you." His voice was different now: teacher-like, but still soothing. "That's good. Now, just relax and clear your mind."

Mara did as he asked, firmly shoving all thoughts and strange feelings to the back of her mind.

"Very good. Now, focus on your breathing, and close your eyes."

Mara didn't remember when it happened exactly, but the next thing she knew it was as if someone had carried her and then set her down carefully. In her mind's eye she saw a tree by a pond, and she saw herself resting against it.

With a soft smile, Mara gave herself over completely, trusting Luke to take care of her.

**00000**

Luke gazed upon Mara's serene face, enraptured by her beauty despite the bruises and other injuries. Her mind had been a whirl of emotion and thought that swirled quickly and seemingly at random. But now that her mind had stilled, so too did her body, and at long last she relaxed completely.

He too had felt something when is fingers had run through her silky locks, almost of their own accord. He had no idea where that action had been spurned, but he did not regret it.

_Force, she is gorgeous! _Luke marveled.

His throat caught, and he again lifted his hand, running his fingertips tenderly across her porcelain and lightly freckled face. His caress made its way down the curve of her cheek to end at her chin, where his thumb hovered over her full lips.

His own mouth twitched involuntarily, and Luke realized what he was doing then. Berating himself for losing focus, he settled beside her and worked on clearing his own mind so he could do his best work for Mara.

_Mara… _he smiled before falling into his trance. The name fit her like a glove to hand, and as soon as she'd said it, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was the woman from Jabba's palace.

There was definitely more to this woman than met the eye, but he would not pry the information from her.

With a small sigh, Luke pushed the last vestiges of those thoughts away, and set about to heal his new-found friend.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve:**

This time when she woke, there was a greater amount of disorientation. Her first thought was that she was back in that horrible room, even though part of her knew better. Then she tried to get her eyesight to clear so she could get her bearings.

Groggily, Mara shifted on the mattress, frowning at how cold she felt on the one side. She stretched tired muscles, yawning widely.

It was as she shifted in the cot that she realized something: all her aches and pains were gone. Completely.

Amazement coursed through her like sunshine, eradicating in its wake any traces of sleepiness from her body. She lifted her arms and gazed at the perfect skin upon them. Next she shifted her ankle, then her wrist, testing their usefulness.

They worked just fine. Mara lay back limply, blown out of the water at how this was possible.

After her elation settled Mara simply laid still, allowing herself the luxury of being healed. She had to admit that Luke had outdone himself…

Mara's gaze flitted to where the Jedi had lain, and saw that he was absent. A brush of her fingers to the cool sheets told her that he'd been gone some time now. Mara sat up carefully, trying to avoid any dizziness.

To her delight there was none, just sore muscles due to a lack of activity on her part. Mara placed her feet to the deck and cautiously stood up, taking it slow for the time being just in case. Once she had her strength back enough, she took a few experimental steps, half-expecting a twinge of discomfort from her ankle, but there was none.

Mara breathed a sigh of relief, and slowly ambled out of her cabin. She glanced left and right, decided to try left, and closed the door behind her as she made her way in that direction. She discovered that this path took her through a small lobby and to the cockpit.

But it was the form sitting cross-legged on the deck in the foyer that captured her attention.

There was Luke; back straight, head facing her with closed eyes. His breathing was slow and steady, with hands resting just so in his lap. Mara waited for his eyes to spring open, and his mouth to quirk up in his adoring little smile…

_Stars, Mara… _she told herself with a small amount of chagrin. _You've known him how long and you're already falling for him?_

With a semi-defeated sigh, Mara skirted the prone Jedi, wondering why he'd not reacted to her presence at all.

A soft beep greeted her as she entered the cockpit, and Mara gazed upon a blue and silver astromech droid.

"Hello there," Mara greeted him softly.

She remembered hearing Skywalker call out to someone as they'd made their escape… recalled a droid…

"It's Artoo, right?"

The droid bleeped an affirmative, rocking slightly forward.

Mara peered closer at his nameplate, and nodded. "Artoo Detoo. Well, thank you for the help earlier, Artoo."

Again Artoo whistled positively, and Mara allowed a soft smile to grace her lips.

"How long was I asleep, do you know?" Mara yawned slightly through her query.

A message scrolled onto a datapad rigged to the droid, and Mara watched as Artoo's answer scrolled by. Her eyes widened a trace.

"Six hours?" she whistled. "By the stars."

Looking at her body again, Mara could feel her opinion of Luke Skywalker rise several notches.

_Amateur healer indeed! _Mara mused. _Look at me!_

Her stomach chose that moment to rumble, and she fully expected the sound to reverberate from the walls of the ship in a mighty echo. But once again the man sitting on the deck a few paces away didn't so much as twitch.

"What is he doing, anyway?" Mara finally asked, her curiosity eating away at her.

Another beep, another scrolled translation: _meditating_.

"Meditation?" Mara nodded, understanding now why the Jedi remained unresponsive.

Her master and Vader had both meditated at times, and had likewise remained un-phased by things. But the need for sustenance was beginning to override her curiosity, and Mara glanced at the droid.

"How long do we have until we arrive… at wherever we're going?"

_Another ten hours._ Artoo answered.

"Okay, is there a galley on this ship?"

Artoo again rocked and unplugged from the console he was stationed at. With a whir of treads, he led the way aft. Mara followed, careful not to bump Luke as Artoo led her to the tiny galley.

Mara thanked him, and perused the kitchen and its selection of food. There wasn't a ton, but there _was_ enough to make a simple meal. In fact, there was just enough for two persons. A thought occurred to her, and she smiled, setting about the galley with a newfound purpose.

Mara lost all sense of time, never noticing when Artoo made his leave. She prepared the food with the zeal of someone who'd not eaten in days, taste-testing her progress every now and again.

Her mouth watered with the tantalizing scent of the food. Once the meal was close to completion, Mara intentionally wafted some of the air from the galley into the other parts of the ship to get the Jedi's attention.

Finally she set the heating element to low so it would keep her dish warm, and then moved to the cabinets to get table settings. When she turned around, she jumped at the sight of Luke in the doorway, his bright eyes smiling.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

Mara lifted a brow. "Making dinner… or lunch, I don't really know what time it is anywhere, so pick a title."

Luke chuckled. "It smells delicious."

Mara's first twinge of doubt wormed its way into her confidence. "Don't praise my culinary expertise just yet. You haven't tasted anything."

The twinkle in his eyes lifted his lips in that smile she'd been unconsciously hoping to see again. To her surprise, her heart fluttered, and Mara had to force herself to remain cool and in control… all the while wondering what was wrong with her.

"Doesn't matter," Luke was saying when she tuned back in to the conversation. "It's the thought that counts."

Mara didn't know how to reply to that, so she remained quiet, standing awkwardly in the galley with her arms full of dishes. That is, until Luke's chivalrous side kicked into gear, and he stepped forward.

"Let me take those." He relieved Mara of her burden and set the table for them with a swiftness that floored her.

Most men she'd known couldn't— or wouldn't in the Imperial elites' case— set a dinner table, let alone properly, to save their lives. But here was a grown man, setting the table like he'd done it all his life.

Noticing her stare, Luke blushed a little. "My Aunt Beru had me set the table for supper each night when I was growing up."

There was no mistaking the wistful tone he used, and Mara felt compelled to ask.

"Where is she now?"

Luke met her gaze for a brief moment before looking down.

"She's passed on," he said simply.

Respecting his privacy, Mara changed the subject. "Well, if you're ready to eat, the food is ready to be eaten."

His lips quirked into a smirk, and they took their places at the small table. Mara ladled her creation into their bowls, and Luke eagerly dug in. Mara sat in stunned silence as he consumed his portion without so much as batting an eye.

Halfway through his stew, he glanced up. "This is amazing, Mara!"

She couldn't help the blush that colored her cheeks, and Mara at last tasted her own serving. Her eyes, half-lidded as they were, flew open at the delicious explosion of flavor upon her tongue.

That was the final straw; she threw all her formal training out the window and consumed her meal like a starved animal. When she looked up from her empty dish, Luke was watching her with an amused expression.

Slightly embarrassed, Mara swallowed her final bite, feeling it go down with more difficulty as those blue eyes gazed openly into her green.

"Well…" Mara wiped her mouth. "I never knew I had it in me to cook."

"Hey, you can cook for me any time," Luke remarked, placing another small spoonful of the stew into his bowl and eating it at a more leisurely pace.

Mara lifted a brow. "Oh I can, can I?"

He shrugged. "I promise not to judge."

She eyed him, gauging his curious appetite, and snickered softly. "Don't get your hopes up."

He winked at her, completed his bowl, and then pushed it away. "So, how do you feel?"

Grateful for a topic shift, Mara answered honestly. "Are you sure you've not had a lot of practice with healing? Because I feel like my injuries never happened."

He blushed, smiling sheepishly. "No, I haven't, but I wanted to make sure you got the best treatment I could manage."

Mara felt unfamiliar emotion tug at her, and she looked away. "Well… thank you."

A companionable silence descended, and eventually Luke rose to begin the clean-up, leaving Mara to her thoughts.

_Descended into the depths of hell…_

"Luke?" Her voice was whisper quiet, but nonetheless grabbed his utter and compete attention.

"Yes?"

"Why did you do it?"

He frowned. "Do what?"

"Go out of your way to rescue a complete stranger." Mara had to know what had driven him to come for her.

He took a long moment to answer; and after a time, Mara thought he wouldn't. But then he set his rag down, dried his hands, and settled back into his seat.

"I could say that it was the Force telling me to: and that would be true." He looked at his hands, clasped nervously before him on the tabletop. "But… I wanted to meet you. I… guess I felt a… connection to you. I know that probably makes little sense, but…"

Mara eyed him as he fumbled for words, sensing his earnestness, his deep desire to get to know her better. And most of all, she felt the truth of every word he spoke, timid as they were. Tentatively, Mara reached a hand out to place over his.

"It makes sense," she assured him gently. "I may not understand it, but I believe you. We… I don't know if you felt it, but… in Jabba's palace, when I first met you… I was blown away. I'd never felt anything like it before."

Luke's eye widened a trace. "Then you felt it too? The… link?"

"Yes." Mara swallowed. "I didn't know what to make of you then. I still don't…"

Luke turned his hands so that their palms were touching. "I would very much like to explore… this. Us, I mean." He added hastily.

Mara paused indecisively. "I… I don't know."

After eyeing her for a time, he nodded slowly, pursing his lips. "Where will you go once we arrive at _Home One_?"

Mara shrugged away, her hand feeling empty without the reassuring weight of his upon it.

"I don't know, Luke," she whispered. "I have nowhere _to_ go. I… I have no money, no clothes, no ship: nothing. Everything I had… well, it wasn't even truly mine, but it's gone now."

Why was she being so open with this man? Was this what it felt like to love? And to be loved?

To be able to talk freely with someone and not feel stupid in doing so?

Was it because Mara inherently knew that the man before her would never shun her without a damn-good reason? Maybe not even then.

She sighed. "I have no place to go, Luke. I don't even know where to begin."

Luke looked thoughtful. "You could stay with the Alliance. We could always use new hands about the fleet."

Mara eyed him, and decided to test the waters a little. "Just with the Alliance?"

His blush was very telling. "Ah… well, I'd… um, be there too."

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling at his bashful behavior. It was growing ever clearer to Mara that Luke Skywalker was likely beginning to develop feelings for her as well.

Abruptly Mara frowned, recognizing the terrifying turn of her thoughts. A man… liked her? Was possibly falling in love… with… _her_? It was entirely foreign, and… and she couldn't handle it at that moment.

Standing with a suddenness that startled her companion, Mara steamrolled back to her room, locking the door behind her. As she expected, a timid knock sounded a few minutes later.

"Mara?" Luke called gingerly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Her shaky voice told another story, and Mara felt his concern through the Force. "Please, I… I need to be alone Luke."

"Okay." His confusion and self-doubt wafted through the Force, and Mara wanted nothing more than to thrust herself at him and assure him it wasn't his fault.

But this odd behavior had her concerned even more, and Mara buried her head in her arms.

_What in space is wrong with me?_


End file.
